


The Ace of Spades

by Aurora313



Category: Destiny (Video Game), Destiny - Fandom, Destiny 2 - Fandom
Genre: Ace of spades, Gen, Long Lost Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2018-12-31 06:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12126504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora313/pseuds/Aurora313
Summary: 'Just know your dad did what he had to do if I ever wanted to see you and your mother again. You probably won't recognise me, since I'll be, well, a robot and all, but I'll find you, I promise.' Ace stared down at the old letter in his hands, re-reading the lines over and over. "Yeah..." He scoffs. "Not if I find you first, old man." - [[Destiny Story Rewrite.]]





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

The Ghost hummed to herself as she passed through the wastelands, once part of a beautiful old earth city.

The name summoned forth from her memory banks instantly; New Sydney. It was peaceful for now, but no doubt the Fallen would sink its mangy talons into the old carcass in a week's time. They were scavengers of the highest order. And those creatures would take every and any thing that was not nailed down, rusted through, or left behind.

Still, the Ghost wouldn't have to worry about them. At least, not for a short respite.

A guardian fireteam had swept through the area approximately five hours and twenty-two minutes ago, scrounging around for spinmetal, engrams and other salvageable goods. A fortunately timed intervention too, as they managed to rescue the Ghost from some unwanted Fallen attention.

Before wishing the tiny mechanical creature good fortune in her search, they informed her about their plans to set up camp for the night in a former communal centre on the far side of the city. The Ghost had stored the information away in her memory coils, and bobbed up and down like a nod before setting on her way. It was valuable and reassuring to know that Guardians would be nearby - in case the Fallen started getting ideas again.

It had been centuries since the great collapse, and since the Traveller created the Ghosts. Artificial life forms who could gift a Human, Exo or Awoken - be it alive or dead… usually dead – with the power of Light.

Those beings would become the immortal Guardians, warriors of the Light, defenders of the Last City and humanity's great protectors. Not unlike the Phoenix of old Earth mythology. A magical avian creature who would be reborn from their own ashes when slain. Guardians were much the same in that regard, for so long as they had a ghost – and the Light – they too would return again and again.

However, not all guardians were so easily found. Many ghosts had been fortunate in finding their own across the years, yet this small spark of Light had not. She watched as many of her fellow ghosts – her friends – found their Guardians, and even in her delight for them, slowly lost hope that she would be so lucky.

So, for many years she had scoured the solar system. Those years stretching into centuries. Invariably, she would always be drawn back to Humanity's blue cradle. Like, some strange force beyond logical explanation told her what she was seeking would be nestled somewhere in earth's ancient battlefields.

Her trek took her past New Sydney's boundaries, towards the rusted colony ships that stood at the City's outskirts, great ruined spires which split the earth and sky. There were many cosmodromes like this one scattered across the world, and just as many had rushed cars, corpses and other vehicles wedged together at their bases like cobblestones.

The ghost sighed quietly, remembering the last times she had visited a site like this. An old Cosmodrome in Russia and another in Europe three decades before that.

Unfortunately, this location would prove as fruitless as the last. After hours of scanning, she came up with nothing. Afternoon twilight turned to pitch black night, with nothing but the moonlight and stars to illuminate the Ghost's way. Projecting a gloomy dejection, the Ghost drifted across the shipyards until it reached a second smaller series of buildings that served as the city's manufacturing hub.

Her eye dropped, scanning yet another collection of old bones slumped against the steering wheel, then zoomed off leaving it to its rusted coffin. Nothing.

Until.

Something flickered in the farthest edge of her scanners. Something that sparked a new hope within the Ghost. Unable to contain the excitement at this potential discovery, the Ghost zoomed forward towards the source of the anomaly.

Zooming through the winding roads, the Ghost ducked and weaved through half-exposed facilities, their walls crumbled away from age. Until it happened upon a skeletal hand… The Ghost gave it a thorough scan, and a new sense of purpose filled her tiny frame. Offset by the crestfallen dread settling in her core processes.

"Of course…" The Ghost mused sarcastically, "After all these years of searching, I finally find a guardian and they're in pieces…"

The rest of the body wasn't far, approximately twelve point seven metres away. It was messily bifurcated, either by being smashed by the large chunk of concrete debris that it lay by, or the body shattered on impact at its jagged peak. Both options made for a grisly image.

The Ghost have a long sigh, a purely symbolic gesture to express her exasperation. "Well, I've never heard of a Guardian being found in  _pieces_  before… but then again, I haven't visited any of my fellows in a while, so I suppose I really can't make any judgements."

The Ghost hovered a little closer to the bones, performing one final scan for confirmation. Yes. Yes this was the one. "At least I found you… at long last."

There was a delighted inflection in the Ghost's voice as her fins whirred and expanded. "Well, suppose I'd best get started… I'm sure how this all came about was an interesting story, but that's a different life."

The white shell grew vibrant with blue-white light. "Time to wake up, Guardian."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One**

He couldn't remember much before the all-enveloping darkness.

Only vague and jumbled wisps of memory. Details had been all since lost, but the last thing that followed him into the nothingness was a victorious gurgling sound like mocking laughter and the sensation of falling. Another image was of a woman far older than he. Familiar. Acidic and raged. Bloodied and broken. He could not recall words, but he knew he'd damned and shunned her before turning his back forever, leaving the woman to a blighted fate.

Above all that, the strongest feeling he had was that of searching… no, more intense than that.

Hunting.

_Guardian…?_

He had been hunting, tracking down a target. Whatever that someone or something was lost to him in this inky blackness. But it seemed to desperately important at the time. Even now it held a commanding weight over him, like his entire existence had hinged on that one discovery. Coupled with an overriding sense of failure and guilt that he could not find this thing he was looking for.

_Guardian, can you hear me?_

The tinny voice spoke again, piercing through the haze into the deepest layers of his mind. Like a moth drawn to flame, he found himself pulled towards it and yanked out of the depths of oblivion.

_Oh please tell me I didn't break him already? That would be so awkward to explain to the Vanguard…_

The voice grew firmer, louder in his ear before he realised it was real. His eyes flickered open, though the effort took all of his strength, and his eyes felt as if they had been crushed over by a long slumber. His vision came into focus, only to be confronted with a hovering glowing blue eye mere inches from above his nose.

"Whoa, holy hell!" The words were like knives in his throat. The Guardian bolted upright, scooting away slightly from the blue-eyed drone that peered at him quizzically, heart hammering painfully in his chest. It took a few seconds for the surprise to dull and for him to will his heart back into a more relaxed rhythm.

Glancing down at himself, he realised he wasn't dressed in normal clothing but rudimentary light armour. Including a helm which concealed his features but offered a perfect field of vision. Exactly where he'd got it from was a mystery, but the obvious answer was this tiny creature had gifted it to him. For what purpose? He could only guess at.

"Uh… Hi?"

"Oh thank goodness. I thought something had gone very terribly wrong. I'm so relieved it worked," the thing gushed in obvious relief then made a sound like clearing her throat. "I'm a Ghost – actually, now I'm your ghost. And you've… well, you've been-"

"Ack-" The Guardian interrupted her with a sound in his throat, massaging his throat firmly and testing his strained voice again. "Do… Do Re Mi Fa So La Ti Do - ugh, ouch, that is gonna take a while before it feels better, isn't it? Well, guess that means my illustrious singing career's on the back burner for now."

His throat was parched, and it felt like he'd swallowed a fist full of razor sharp glass. The Ghost simply stared at him in dumbfounded silence, caught off guard by his interruption.

The Guardian drew himself up to his knees and scanned his surroundings, trying to gain his bearings. Of course, his eye caught the first obvious thing, the large cracked concrete slab he'd been resting again. Split in half by jagged edges was an old cooperate logo in bold black letters, a 'CB' underlined by the words Clovis Bray.

He wasn't sure what started it, but his body started to shudder and shake. His heart filled to the brim with hatred as his hands curled into tight fists and a growl escaped his throat. "G-Guardian, are you okay?"

The voice seemed to come from both outside and inside his mind, snapping him back to reality. He bounced to his feet, his back deliberately at the ruined structure. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. But, uh… what in hell is going?"

"Oh. Sorry. As I was saying before, you've been… well, dead for at least a few centuries. A lot of things have changed and you'll probably see a lot of things you won't understand – at least, not yet."

Already the man wasn't exactly sure what to make of the small Ghost creature, and he sensed on some level that she wasn't sure what to make of him either.

"… come again?" The Guardian turned his head towards her dumbfounded.

"You've been dead for a long time, I brought you back to life." The Ghost declared proudly while the Guardian nodded slowly as if indulging a child's bizarre tale.

"And what's a floating D8 want with lil' old me? I'm just a random… living… un-living? Undead?" The Guardian mused on it for a moment, stroking his helm in a thinking gesture. "Well, I don't have a ravenous need for devouring the flesh of the living, so I wouldn't call myself a 'zombie'… I dunno, what would you call this?"

"May we focus please?" The Ghost questioned firmly, then made another little sound. "Listen, we're in Fallen territory and I need you to trust me. There's a small fireteam of Guardians six hour's hike from here. If we can rendezvous with them, we'll be able to get a lift back to the Last City."

The Guardian raised his hand, then crossed his arms petulantly. From his tone, it was apparent he was pouting under that helmet. "Fine, survival first, existentialism later..."

The Guardian set on his way, moving cautiously through the collapsed terrain guided along the way by his Ghost. Outside the confines of the industrial sector, they walked along the winding lines of rusted transports. The Guardian couldn't help but wince every time he passed a skeleton.

"Why choose me?" He questioned, now resolute on keeping his eyes ahead. "You've got a literal field of other choices."

"I had a whole solar system actually… The truth is; I don't know." The Ghost replied honestly, turning its eye on him as they continued. "All I know is I listened to the Light, and it guided me to you."

"... So, you got a name?" The Guardian asked after about half an hour's silence.

"Most guardians just call us 'Ghost' until they give us a different name." The small drone replied, her rear fins whirring slightly as her solitary eye shone a light on their way. "A few more prefer just to call us what we are."

"Yeah, that's boring." The Guardian said, "How about Dusk? You look like a 'Dusk' to me."

"Dusk?" The Ghost gave him a look before she hummed in approval. "I like it. And what's your name?"

The Guardian paused in his stride, his eyes on the ground and his brow etched in a deep frown. What was his name? "Acker... or Ace. I think. I might have been called both at one point..."

For some reason, the word filled him with regret and longing. The very same kind he felt in the darkness, thinking of that thing he was hunting. "We'll just stick with 'Acker' for now. 'Ace' makes me feel like crap... not too sure I remember why."

Dusk drooped slightly and seemed hesitant to speak. "Yes, Guardians tend not to remember who they were before being revived. I'm not sure if it's a by-product of the reanimation or simply biological fact. Save for a few rare exceptions, most Guardians are found long after brain death. In your case, a very long time afterwards. Even if the brain was restored, it's unlikely any of the memories would be recovered."

"Huh, that's gonna be f-" Acker muttered but his next words were cut off by an alarm from Dusk.

"Fallen!" She whispered, Acker's eyes darted around for cover before he sprinted to a small alcove under an up-heaved segment of asphalt hidden by overgrowth.

He skidded under it, his stomach pressed flat against the ground and one hand subtly pushing a shrub in front of him, enough to cover the gleam of his helm while still letting him view the incoming hostiles.

A _ctivating Heads Up Display._ Dusk's voice in his mind almost made Acker jump and crack his head on the asphalt, but he thought wiser of it. In the corner of his vision, a small circular radio screen pulsed showing red dots approaching his location. It wasn't long before he had a visual on them.

A small caravan of Fallen soldiers trudged along through the rusted carcasses, their weapons primed and ready with a Servitor backing their way.

 _See that big one in front wearing the house banner?_  Dusk's voice chimed in his mind,  _He's a Kell. We don't want to mess with these guys, not yet._

Tentatively, Acker returned with thoughts of his own.  _And definitely not without a weapon. I ain't got a knife or anything. I don't suppose there's anything here we can use to escape? Cause I have serious doubts about whether or not we'll make it to that fireteam you mentioned._

He heard Dusk sigh quietly. _If a Kell's roaming in the open like this, it means the Fireteam must have departed already. How could I be so stupidly naive? The Fallen moved in far quicker than I anticipated._

Acker shook his head as much as the confined space allowed for.  _Look, hindsight's 20-20. So, do you think we can find some old bucket of bolts in the Cosmodrone? Or somewhere in the City? Doesn't have to be fancy, just has to get us the hell out of dodge…_

 _Scanning_. Dusk replied, her joints expanded and she was silent for a long ten seconds.  _Found one – there's an Arcadia class craft, just inside an old hanger approximately seven hundred and eighty-one metres to the south south-east. Your ten o'clock. Marking._

A small grey diamond the size of his pinkie nail appeared in his field of vision, smack dab on top of a structure. Straining his eyes, Acker could just make out the rooftop of a largely intact hanger, the solitary standing structure amongst the decay.

"Not a lot of cover between there and here, we'll have to be smart about it. That means you'll have to find somewhere to hide." Acker told her and Dusk bobbed up and down as a nod.

"We need to get moving - hold still." Dusk agreed, zooming towards him then disappearing in a quick flicker of electric blue.

"Wha-"

"Its okay, I'm still with you." Dusk reassured over his helmet com link, "I'll keep out of sight and monitor the Fallen movements."

"Guess this means we'll see if I was good at track in a previous life." Joking aside, Acker glanced at the motion detector. The Fallen were just inside its range and the second the red dots vanished, he crawled out the space and broke into a sprint along the winding rusted lines. Vaulting over obstacles as they came, and over car lanes to gain better footing.

"Hanger coming up, two hundred metres on your eleven o'clock." Dusk reported, "Scanning… The front bay doors are sealed shut, but there's a breach in the side wall, we can slip in through there."

Acker skidded to a halt at the final stretch, glanced at his motion tracker for signs of activity before making the last few metres to the Hanger's side wall. He managed to find the gap in the wall, a narrow crack that he had to turn sideways to slip in.

Pausing for a moment, he peered back through the hole. As far as he could see from this angle, the coast was clear. Now, he could turn his attention to the hanger's contents. He stood on a rusted metal maintenance walk two stories off the ground.

An old vessel hung haphazardly from the ceiling suspended by numerous support cables. Dusk reappeared beside his head and zoomed towards the craft.

"Well, that's a crusty old relic and a half..." Acker commented, walking along the gantry. He peered to his sides, both sets of stairs to the ground floor had been worn away with time. Against his better judgement and with a deep breath, he vaulted over the railing and landed in a crouch. He blinked and straightened up, feeling no worse for ware.

 _Why didn't that hurt as much as it should have…? or at all... ?_  Acker wondered with some confusion but dismissed it a second later, returning his attention to the Ghost.

"Its been here a while," Dusk told him with a small note of concern. Her blue eye scanning through the vessel. "Arcadia class. Its hyperdrive is missing – we'll have to scavenge one later."

"Long as it can fly to that City of yours, I don't care if its older than dirt and rusted to the frames." Acker replied, hands on his hips.

"I can get it working again," Dusk declared then she zipped out of sight, leaving Acker alone in the hanger bay.

While he waited, his mind started to recount the last hour in detail. But more than that, he started to drift back even further to the ghostly images he recalled in that blackness. He even tried to hazard a guess as to why he'd been chosen for this 'Light' business over the dozens of people they passed. What exactly did that Light stuff mean? Aside from bringing back the dead, what was he supposed to do with it? Was he supposed to use it? If so, how?

One thing was for certain: Dusk was right, he  _was_  confused.

"AGH!" A bullet pierced through Acker's right shoulder blade, tearing through the lung. Another round hit the back of his right knee, exploding the joint and sending Acker face-first into the dirt. The Guardian howled in pain, though it was quickly replaced with undiluted rage.

 _"Acker!"_  Dusk's voice cried out from without and within.

"Damn it!" Acker cursed, tasting blood in his mouth and his breathing hardened. "Damn it, if he'd just waited two more goddamned seconds!"

Acker rolled over, blood puddling from his body. His teeth gritted in fury at the Kell lumbering towards him, its scorch cannon aimed at his torso. The Kell couldn't get far before Acker heard the Arcadia hum to life, now looming menacingly over them all like an old predator. The cables holding it in place snapped and twanged, releasing the craft from its bonds.

"Bringing you in!"

Dusk's panicked tone was the last thing he heard before he'd slipped into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two**

Acker shifted uncomfortably in the Arcadia Jumpship's cockpit – if it could even be  _called_  that anymore, allowing Dusk to maintain control over the ship systems while they flew through Earth's stratosphere. He would have piloted the craft himself, but the controls were either frozen, jammed or entirely absent – ripped from their frames by the Fallen scavengers. So, for now, Dusk really was the only one who  _could_  pilot it.

Even the seat had been stripped down to the metal frames, and he'd been reduced to sitting uncomfortably on a crossover steel frame. He crossed his legs, his hand tapping a nonsensical rhythm on his right knee while he thought. It had been restored back to prime condition in mere moments, along with the hole in his shoulder thanks to Dusk's Light trick.

Acker had thought about sleeping, but the small 'chair' was far too ridged for any kind of decent rest. Instead, he directed his attention to the viewport, and couldn't help feeling a prang of sorrow as the scenery flew by. They'd crossed countless ruins of old cities or townships, from offshore Arckologies to ports and in-land manufacturing facilities.

It was beautiful in a twisted way. Nature slowly reclaiming what it was owed, but on the whole, the desolation was utterly depressing.

To think Mankind once reached for the stars, held them in its hand – and now? Now they were reduced to a single foothold.

"We're coming up on the City now…" Dusk's electronic voice broke his trance, and Acker peered upwards where in the distance he could just make out the top of a white sphere through thick grey cloud.

The Traveller. The being responsible for the Golden age. Acker found himself awed by its sheer size. The great white sphere was the size of a small moon which held its place as steady as a statue. As they drew closer, Acker leaned forward to get a better look at the city below. It was massive thriving metropolis encircled by rings of massive walls. Six grand watchtowers stood along its border and the Arcadia swooped down on the closest one.

"Its amazing, isn't it?" Dusk said, a twinge of mourning entering her tone, "Welcome to the Traveler's last safe haven: The Last City. Our only hope against the Darkness. It took centuries to build, now we're counting the days it stands."

Acker frowned and leaned back as best he could, "… you'd think that with centuries of history behind it, they'd come up with a more creative name."

"… in their defence, it  _is_  accurate. And the old saying is 'Simpler is better'." Dusk offered in mild humour.

"Fair. But, uh, still… could have picked somethin' more bombastic or heroic? Like from folklore? The tower's supposed to be for Guardians, right? Why not call it something like, uh,… what was that warrior afterlife?" He snapped his fingers as he searched for the right word, "Valhalla or something?"

Dusk gave an short chuckle. "I'm  _pretty_  sure everyone's perfectly happy just calling it 'the Last City'."

Acker shrugged, patiently waiting their descent into a hanger bay tucked under the main tower's plaza. "And that's our lot then? Protectin' the Last City until it falls?"

"And to fight back against the Darkness." Dusk offered, though she lacked confidence in that fact.

"Well that ain't ominous in the least." Acker noted wryly, tapping the side of his helmet as he thought. "I'll need to get some weapons and better armour. As hilarious as the image is, I hope you don't expect me to run around headbutting Fallen to death? That's a headache I don't need."

"If you were a titan, I'd argue that's a fairly standard battle tactic."

Acker barked out a laugh before it faded slightly. "I'm assuming that's a type of guardian?"

"Yes. There are three main orders of Guardian: Hunters, Titans and Warlocks… but we can talk about that later. The important thing is; we're home now." Dusk answered him, she reappeared beside his head in the cockpit. "Touching down."

_**THUNK!** _

The entire craft jolted as the engine promptly stalled upon their landing, Acker nearly jumped out of his skin in fright before he shot the ghost a dirty scowl. "Nice landing."

Dusk seemed not to notice the dripping sarcasm and whistled jauntily while working through some internal processes. "Transmatting."

Though instantaneous, the sensation of translocating from the ship to the ground outside made his stomach lurch, and Acker was happy for a moment to get his gut under control. He reached for the clasp on his helmet seal, unlocked it and pulled the thing off to take one more deep breath. The hanger bay smelt of oil, machines and exhaust fumes and he hadn't realised how much the helmet filtered the world. Running a hand through his dark matted hair, Acker turned his greyish-blue eyes from the jumpship to take in his surroundings.

The bay was full of drones and workers attending to various ship maintenance and retrofits, pausing to check on their welds or giving out instructions to their colleagues. Acker turned towards the open bay doors and leaned to get a glimpse of the City below but a voice behind him cut off that notion.

"This sure is a mouldy oldy. Where d'ya picked that up?" A blonde-haired woman with an augmentic leg said by way of greeting, approaching the pair and snapping Acker from his daze.

"Shipwright Amanda Holliday. Don't reckon I've seen you around these parts before, Guardian."

Acker regarded the woman with a jovial tone. "Yeah. Had a centuries-long sleep-in. Woke up and figured I'd drift this way, since this seems to be where all the cool kids are hanging out. So, I'm pretty new on the block."

Shipwright Holliday smirked at his humour bringing up the data slate she'd held in her hand and pressing a few buttons. It beeped in affirmation. "Kinder-Guardian, huh? Well, welcome to the Tower. Now let's see what I can do to get your ship sorted. Gonna need a name for registry."

"Acker. Just Acker."

Dusk hovered towards her, jutting towards the device. "Shipwright Holliday? I've already performed an extensive scan of the jumpship and complied a thorough maintenance list. If I may?"

"Sure thing." Amanda said, pouring over the data slate and scrutinising every detail. "Gonna have to replace most of the rusted armour plates, the internals need a complete rework and… yeah, you're missin' a warp drive there, buddy."

The Guardian nodded ruefully. "Yeah, Dusk did mention we'd have to scavenge one."

"Dusk, huh? Cute name, little gal." Amanda walked up to the jumpship, already directing drones to remove the external plating with curt orders.

"It'll take me a day or so to polish her up, got enough spare parts to rebuild the cockpit and clean the dust outta the engine - but I can't just magic a warp-drive outta thin air. That's a piece of tech you'll have to find on your own." Amanda jutted her chin towards the craft, "When she's done, I recommend hittin' the Fallen bands roaming the Cosmodrones and the ports – those suckers'll either have the drives or its parts. Either way, get me one and you'll be hoppin' planets in no time."

Acker nodded slowly, watching as another two workers joined the hustle. They listened to Amanda's orders and hurried to work with diligence and proficiency, trading ideas about how to proceed.

"Not saying I object that point in particular, but I'll need to swing by somewhere I can get some gear," Acker explained, rubbing his right shoulder keenly remembering the pain of the Kell's bullet. He had a dark feeling he was going to get used to being shot. "Bein' unarmed sucks, and now I've rejoined the ranks I'm rather content to stay among the living."

Amanda turned, indicating the tall entryway behind them at the top of a flight of stairs passed a section that was quartered off with smaller one-man hoverbikes. "Yeah, past the bay through those corridors 'til the end, pitch a right and you'll find an Exo on the upper landin'. Blue and yellow, name's Banshee-44. He's the gunsmith and he'll set ya right. But you might wanna check in with the Vanguard first. Get a rundown of all the things you missed takin' your power nap."

Acker turns his head to the directed hallway, then nods his thanks. "Cheers for that, and uh… do I need to pay you or anything? Money, materials? ... next six lotto numbers?"

"Well if ya know the next Cruicible match outcome, I won't mind. Got a wise-ass bot up there, owe him a tonne of glimmer. Could use it to pay off a bet." She joked, when Acker stared at her quizzically, she brushed it off with a good-natured roll of her eyes. "Just get the parts I need, and we'll be golden. You ain't buying a whole new ship, just fixing the one you got." Amanda answered, "But that bein' said; any spinmetal you can find out there would go a long way."

Acker inclined his head. "I'll keep an eye out, and uh… thanks. I owe you for this."

Amanda waved him off with a crooked smirk. "See you 'round, Guardian."

As Acker set off, Amanda paused with a thoughtful look on her face and called after him again when he was halfway up the stair case. "Hey, you sure we haven't met before?"

Acker frowned, "Pretty sure, why?"

Amanda stared at him, as if searching for something familiar about him before giving a dismissive shake of her head. "Nothin' - just remind of someone I know is all."

"Hmm. I'll take that as a compliment."

He heard sing-song tone that sounded oddly like 'Suit yourself' but ignored it there after. The newborn Guardian continued along the path, making his way through checkpoints where armed drones stood ridge and on guard. He eyed them warily.

"And how do we figure what kind of Guardian I am?"

"Oh, you're a Hunter." Dusk replied quickly as if she'd just remembered that important fact. "Didn't I mention?"

Acker shot her a frown. "You  _really_  didn't. But, we were both running for our lives from that Kell – so I kinda get there were more important things goin' on at the time."

Dusk sounded suddenly hesitant and embarrassed. "A-actually, that was an Archon. Not a Kell."

Acker smirked, unable to resist the teasing jab. "Hang on a tic, I thought you said it  _was_  a Kell."

"I'm allowed to make mistakes too, okay! I was happy finally found a Guardian and got distracted, lay off me!" Dusk grumbled, and Acker was given the distinct impression that she was scowling.

"You're so cute." He simply chuckled when she blew raspberries.

Acker raised his hands defensively. "Okay, okay. I'll stop teasing. What kind of stuff do Hunters do with their Light?"

"As your connection to the light grows stronger you'll discover your focus." Dust explained, then thought for a moment.

"In total, there's three types of shape your light takes: Arc, Solar and Void. And each of those have different disciplines of their own. For instance; a Hunter who wields arc? Their arc energy flows into a blade that can slice through foes – they call themselves Bladedancers. Alternatively, if a Hunter's power manifests as solar energy, they can manifest a Golden Gun. Tellingly, those kinds of Hunters are called Gunslingers."

Once again, Dust seemed hesitant to proceed, but finished none the less. "Lastly, Nightstalkers wield the void, but that's considered a dangerous pursuit. They wield a void bow and their focus is in trapping the enemy. Very few of them are left, and I frankly prefer you not to walk down that path for now. At least, not until you've mastered Gunslinger or Arcblade… preferably both."

Acker gave a low whistle. "Gez. All of 'em sound like something I don't want chasin' me into a blind alley. And we won't know which one I am until I, lacking a better word, 'unlock' an Arcblade or a Golden Gun."

Dusk mused for a moment. "That… is essentially it, yes."

"Makes sense… sort of." Acker replied, though he couldn't quite work any conviction into his tone. "So, if you had to guess: What would you peg me as? Gunslinger or Bladedancer?"

Dusk hummed, looking straight ahead. "I'd peg you as... decidedly  _not_  bright enough to be a Warlock?"

She giggled as he glowered. "Thanks!"

They came to the wide-open plaza and Acker was immediately confronted with the view of the Traveller hanging in the sky, and the city in its shadow. The Plaza was filled with vendors, traders and what Acker assumed were other Guardians browsing wares or discussing other pursuits. But he wasn't concerned with them for now, instead he was utterly captivated by the view of the Last City.

"Whoa… That  _is_  a joyous sight, now, isn't it...?" Acker murmured, moving slowly towards the railing and peering below thankful that he apparently did not have a fear of heights. The landscape was alive with people and activity, filled with lights and sound however muffled it was at this distance. Dusk floated at his shoulder, her gaze shifted between her Guardian and the City.

"It truly is…"

He had only meant to linger for a moment, but that moment stretched into ten minutes then half an hour.

"Well," Acker banged his knuckles against the metal railing. "Best get started then, right?"

"Ready when you are," Dusk answered then beckoned him further into the tower and down a set of tiled staircases.

Around the corner Acker saw what could only be described as an Action room. A large table laden with maps sat in the centre of the room in a dip, a large observation window dominated the entire far wall and to the left and right were monitoring and communication stations occupied by droids and technicians. Three large silk banners hung on either side of the room, each decorated in different colours and a unique symbols.

 _The symbols of the Guardians._ Dusk explained on their private link.  _The arrowhead belongs to the Hunters, The Star is the Warlocks and the Hexogon cut by the cross lines belongs to the Titans._

_Hmm. Fancy._

"Well, hey there, stranger," An Exo wearing brown armour and a black and red cape said by way of greeting, knocking Acker again from his daze as the young Guardian ambled over. The machine sized Acker up then gave a nod. "Welcome to the tower. I'm guessin' you're the new Guardian that dumped his ship on Amanda? I'd toast to your health, but I'm supposed to be all fine and reputable now."

Acker blinked, taken aback for a second before he smirked and waved it off. "That's cool, I can drink plenty enough for the both of us. Just point me the right direction and I'll prove it."

"Hah." The Exo said, reaching into a small compartment under the table and withdrawing two card-like tokens. "Always like a Hunter with a sense of humour."

"After the day I had, waking up to all this crazy; I figure you joke or go insane." Acker supplied then shrugged, his lips formed into a crooked smile. "I'll try the insane thing later."

"If ya ask me, sanity's  _super_  over-rated anyway. Makes life a lot less fun." The Exo hunter replied, thumbing through the tokens with scrutiny. "Cayde-6, Hunter Vanguard. Over there's Ikora, Warlock Vanguard, and Titan Vanguard Zavala."

Acker looked to where he gestured to a human warlock in purple robes then to an Awoken Titan. Both were engrossed in their tasks, researching or administrating whatever bits and pieces they were working on.

"Seem like charming folks."

"Yeah, I'm the funny one."

"You  _do_  strike me as the sanguine type," Acker extended his hand out, "Name's Acker. Wish I could say I've got a reputable title, but so far my achievement list only extends to waking up in a ditch and getting shot."

Cayde-6 actually laughed this. A tinny mechanical sound, but a laugh none the less and shook his hand firmly. "That being the case; Good to have you on your feet. Wilds are getting rougher every year. Gotta keep your eyes sharp out there."

The Hunter handed Acker took the two cards and he peered at them, one had a weapon's insignia and the other an armour insignia.

"Take those to the Gunsmith, Banshee-44. He'll give you some armour and a weapon. Keep your eye out for more gear in the world, engrams and the like. You never know what kind of loot you'll get when you keep your eyes open."

"Is that you're long winded way of saying 'bring back presents'?" Acker joked. He stared at Cayde-6 with a smile, Cayde stared back at him before the Exo's faceplates form into the impression of a grin.

"I like you. You're funny."

"I aim to please." Acker waved and slipped the two tokens into a pouch on his side and moved to leave, he only got three paces before he was stopped.

"Hey kid, you sure you're a newbie? Not one of my veteran Hunters?" Cayde asked and he looked like he was frowning. "Cause I swear I've seen you before."

Acker shifted his weight, a hand on his hip the other pointing a finger at the Vanguard. "You know, you're the  _second_  person to ask me that today. And honestly? Hell if I know - maybe we knew each other before this whole Guardian deal? Is that common with Guardian folks?"

"Hmm…" Cayde seemed to seriously consider it for a moment. He blinked then shrugged nonchalantly and went back to his maps. "Maybe. Either way, take it easy out there, Hunter."

Acker walked back up the stairs and saw to his immediate left, passed a small patch of grass in the shadow of a well-established tree was the Gunsmith, the Exo that could only be Banshee-44. Before Acker could even get a word in edgewise when he offered the tokens, Banshee cut him off.

"Uh huh." Banshee gave both cards a fraction of a glance before tossing them under his workbench. "New Guardian right? Pick a gun," He gestured grandly to the weapons displayed before him. "Auto, Pulse, Scout or handcannon. I keep them cleaned and prepped. No jams. That's important."

Acker picked up each weapon and tested their heft. Adjusting his grip, aiming down the sight and checking the ammo magazines. Tasks he performed with an almost instinctual familiarity, like he'd done this hundreds or thousands of times before. The odd familiarity made him pause for half a minute, trying to search his distorted memory for a reason why that was.

"Guardian?" Banshee prompted, breaking through his thought bubble. He and Dusk looked at him patiently.

"Uh, sorry. Lost in my head a little. I'll take the Scout Rifle." Acker said, hoisting up the Trax Cullum rifle and locking it to the mag seal on his back.

Banshee nodded, then reached under and produced a long combat knife and sniper rifle. "Standard issue secondary weapons for Hunters," he then placed down a white glowing dodecahedron the size of a soccer ball next to the weapons. It was an Engram. "And this is the armour piece. Enough to get started out there."

Acker took the combat knife and slipped it out of its sheath, he tested the balance again with that instinctual familiarity, performing a small flourish before slipping it back into its case. "Thanks, Dusk?" The Ghost zoomed over and transmatted the engram and sniper rifle into her data banks.

"Good luck, Guardian."

Acker waved thanks before turning and walking away, exhaling deeply. "So, what now?"

Dusk glanced at him, then hovered along guiding Acker to their next destination. "Now we've got your gear all sorted, I'll take you to the Guardian Apartments. It's been a long day, and I think you could use some rest."

"Yeah, I don't wanna sleep." Acker sighed, then glanced at his Ghost with a drained expression, the adrenaline of the day wearing off. "I could use something to munch on frankly. Its been a hell of a day…"

Dusk met his eye then bobbed up and down, "There's a cafeteria this way anyway, and another food-court area beyond. I'm sure there's something there to for you to nibble on."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three**

"You know that you can talk to me. I  _am_  your ghost..."

Dusk hovered at his shoulder and Acker acknowledged her with a brief glance, but otherwise remained silent. His greyish-blue eyes half-hooded and staring out over the city below. He'd been sitting on a bench of the Tower Plaza, his gaze unfocused as the reality of his new world settled on him.

Of course, there was plenty of work to be done as Dusk kept saying. The lot of the Guardian was to defend this city from some primal evil. A simple enough objective in theory, though decidedly less so with the execution.

That grandiose vision however was the least of his concerns at the moment. Now that events had finally slowed down enough for him to get a good grasp of his situation, Acker found himself feeling lost and entirely frustrated. He supposed this was a feeling most new Guardians suffered through, but that stray thought didn't make him feel any more at ease.

Dusk, his personal Tinkerbelle, had explained that all guardians experienced this amnesia. But even the amnesiac undead could dream it seemed.

Acker had tried to settle down for the night in a small cot in the Guardian's barracks. A temporary dwelling until a room had been assigned to him, but every time he tried to catch a few winks of sleep he'd have the same dream. He didn't dream of anything in particular, just a… suffocating null space where he was nothing. An all-encompassing emptiness that filled him with a sense of overpowering dread, fear and failure.

But in that darkness, there was a point. A single point of life. Something fragile and warm. He'd heard a lick of flame then a single thunderous crack like a gunshot. He awakened with a jolt, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Sleep didn't come after that.

So, at some point past midnight and well into the ungodly hours of morning, Acker had sat at this very bench trying to use the City's ambient light to scrape away the shadows. It wasn't until now that dawn's first light broke over the city, that he'd finally chosen to break his silence.

"Ghost…" Acker rolled the word over his tongue, his voice distant and absent any of yesterday's quips or witty mannerisms. "Cute word. It's appropriate I suppose, but you'd think they'd call  _us_  the 'Ghosts'. We're the ones yanked back from the great beyond to fight. We're the dead folks here; haunting the world we'd already lived and died in."

Dusk considered her next words, sifting through her memory coils before she formulated her response. "If it were simply dead tissue reanimated, that'd make you closer to Revenants than spirits if my historical archives are correct."

" _Revenants_?"

"Spirits reanimated from the other side to fulfil the purposes of its master. Or in other folklore, brought back by their own will to avenge the death of a loved one or some other attachment so powerful it transcended death itself." Dusk explained, her fins whirred. "But, if those same historical archives are correct, what a Guardian is would be closer to the fantastical archetype of a Lich. However, in this instance, neither are technically accurate since they are among the dead and you're… well,  _not_."

"Both sound morbid and creepifying." Acker mused, vaguely interested by the fact.

"Transcends death itself…" He repeated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I suppose there are some things that not even death can scrub."

"And there are fates worse than death," Dusk supplied with a touch of melancholy entering her mechanical voice. "I've seen quite a number I wouldn't care to mention."

"Yeah, don't doubt that you have..." The words came out but Acker wasn't exactly attentive when he spoke them.

Dusk's all-knowing blue eye peered at his profile. "Regardless of whether or not you were among the living or the dead twenty-four hours ago, you  _are_  living flesh and blood now. You can eat, you can sleep. I may have rekindled your light and it's my duty to ensure its survival, but you are the master of your own fate - your own path. I walk it with you, but I don't dictate where you go. I guide and assist."

"Yeah," Acker drawled. "Pretty words for 'dictate'. Usually when someone 'guides' they really mean 'shut up and follow my orders', it's just phrased more as a suggestion."

His lip curls up into a weak smirk at his own quip, but there is still a defining lack of energy and enthusiasm behind it. "Plus, I figure some folks would say you 'float' along with me, not walk… unless you plan to sprout legs. That'd be a sight to see."

"You know what I mean." Dusk's irritation came across loud and clear, until it was like a gear clicked in her metallic chassis.

"Wait a moment, does that - did that mean you remembered something?" There was a palatable excitement in her tone and a sense of it through their bond. Though Acker chose not to reply just yet.

"Is there a chance I could remember anything?" He asked after a minute, casting his mind back to the vague visions of the acidic woman he'd turned his back on.

"Some do."

"And?"

"Sadly, most don't."

"And I'm supposed to be at peace with that?" Acker stared at Dusk, his brow furrowing into a scowl. "Am I supposed to be sanguine not knowing who or what I was? Am I supposed to be okay that I'll probably never find out?"

Dusk was silent. He could sense not only hesitation but uncertainty too. "I don't know. It's a question every guardian has had to wrestle with - and to many, it's without an answer. Some struggle with all their might to remember, while others are content with a clean start and a new life. But you  _do_  remember something, even if its small? You remembered your name – or names. That is more than most."

"I remember names. I haven't the damnedest clue if they're mine." Acker corrected.

"I'd argue at least 'Ace' is correct," Dusk replied, pointed looking at his left hand then back at him. "If that tattoo on the back of your hand is any indication."

Acker chose not to answer again, running his thumb over the back of his hand. A single black spade marked his skin, detailed with symmetrical curved lines. It made for a pretty cool looking tattoo, and he could sense a strong attachment to it. But there was also a great hollow pain in his chest. It was just one more question demanding an answer.

Exhaling softly, Acker stretched out a rising stiffness in his arms and legs before resting his hand against his right knee, his fingers curled slightly as phantom pain came with the memory. "Enlighten me: if I had been shot in the head and not the shoulder in that Cosmodrone, what would have happened then?"

Dusk hummed quietly, lowering her tone. "I would have just brought you back again. So long as the Light still burns within you, I'll keep bringing you back as many times as I have to. As many times as needed."

Acker's brow twitched. "Sounds less like I'm a person and more just a machine for you to fix when its broken."

To her credit, Dusk seemed to realise her poor word choice. "That's not what I meant… I-I mean it is, but… my purpose as a ghost – as your ghost, is to act as your conduit to the Light."

Acker grunted. "Always comes back to the Light business, and I'm sure there's someone who'll be happy to explain how I'm supposed to  _use_  it?"

"In time – and with training - that will come." Dusk tried to sound placating, but Acker waved it off.

"Yeah, but you said yourself this city doesn't exactly have much time left. So, either we have time, or we don't. There's no in-between."

Dusk seemed appropriately chastised, and from her demeanour Acker got the sense of a child pouting. "… well, I spent the last twenty-four hours eating my own words. I suppose I'll have to eat those too."

"I'm glad we agree." The Guardian chuckled weakly, leaning forward on the bench. "So, apart from being brought back from the great beyond and the whole elemental powers things, what other boons come with this 'gift'?"

"You, like every other guardian, are immortal." Dusk began, "But there's a difference between immortality and invulnerability."

"Important distinction, that. Thanks for the clarification."

Now, he felt sorrow and regret from her. "One that the Guardians had discovered the hard way, many times over and many times again. A second permanent death does exist for those who lose their light."

"And until then? I'll fight and die and be reborn again until I reach that second death?" It was a prospect he enjoyed less and less the more he dwelled on it.

"Or perhaps your second death won't find you at all," Dusk suggested, trying to insert a level of optimism into the conversation. "Already, some would say Guardians defy fate by rejecting their original deaths in the first place."

Acker peered at her. "By my reckoning, Guardians are only capable of doing that because of your intervention."

Dusk nodded. "That is true, but if we're to look at things in the matter of pure objectivity… while my mind is that of a sentient being, what I am – what a  _Ghost_ is - is simply a tool to defy the rule this world has given to people like you."

"And in turn, what am I? Just another tool for the city to use?" Acker scoffed, slumping back on the bench, an unreadable expression on his features. "The prospect of doing the same thing over and over again the rest of eternity doesn't exactly strike me as one worth living. If anything, it's the definition of insanity."

Dusk recoiled. "You're not saying you prefer the void, are you?"

Acker pondered the question, then answered with a subtle shake of the head. His mind cast back to the fierce half-forgotten desire to search. "No. No, I'm not saying that at all. I'm saying that living to fight another day may be the pragmatic idea, but what's the point of perpetuating an endless cycle?"

"Is this not enough?" Dusk's singular peering eye looked out over the City, she floated closer to the railing and Acker hauled himself to his feet to join her. "Hundreds of thousands of people, innocents trying to live their lives in peace – what little of it remains in this dwindling age."

"You're not catching my meaning," Acker told her, waving a hand vaguely towards the landscape below. "What is the point for  _me_  as an individual? Even if I never recover a single piece of who I was, will I have the opportunity to  _live_? Not just survive?"

"Now who's posing the distinctions?" Dusk hummed.

"It's an important one to me." Acker answered quietly.

"Isn't it a little bit selfish to be asking about these things now, after everything you've learned?"

"I haven't learned a goddamned thing. Just some big scary boogie man has its sights set on this city, and that giant white snooker ball in the sky is taking a snooze." Acker retorted, perhaps with a little more venom than he intended.

He felt his frustrations and anger simmering just below the surface. "Seems to me to be the perfect time. Safe and secure inside these walls with no one ready to jump out from behind a corner and shank me."

"Clearly you haven't been in a Crucible match," Dusk muttered in undertones.

Acker leaned casually against the guard railing. "Evil exists, Good's getting its ass kicked. I'm not too sure if you've noticed, but that's the way the world has always worked. Even an amnesiac dead man like me could tell you that."

Dusk huffed. "I wish you'd stop referring to yourself like that. You are  _not_  dead."

An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of them as they looked out towards the city below. Acker locked in his choleric thoughts while Dusk formulated a response.

"If that's truly how you feel? Then why don't you act to change it?"

Acker turned to look at his ghost, eyebrow cocked at the challenge. "The wheel will keep on turning, and the cycle will continue as you rightly pointed out. Problem is the circle is one of attrition, and we're withering away. It won't break so easily."

"Then that's the fate I choose." Acker said, turning back to face the tower. Guardians moving alone or in small units. "If the game's rules are stacked against us, then fuck them - I won't play that game. I'll play my own."

"You make it sound that simple."

"Because it is. In a game stacked against you, the only ways to win are to cheat or play a different game altogether." Acker replied, crossing his arms. "And from the sound of things, if I go down the same road everyone else has, the big baddies win regardless of what I do."

"You are one enlightened individual."

Acker couldn't quite tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

"You may be a guardian, but you are still just one man. And a newly Risen at that." Dusk warned, "The ideal sounds daring but what makes you think you can pull it off as you are now?"

"What's the old saying; Bite off more than you can chew, then chew like hell?" Acker allowed the shadow of a smirk to cross his lips. "Besides, you were the one who suggested it. You again have said that my path is my own to walk. You wouldn't have put the idea in my head if you didn't think I could do it."

"And the trend of me eating my words continues..." Dusk grumbled.

Acker smirked and nodded in agreement. "You  _have_  been shovin' your metaphorical foot in your mouth. Is that a habit of yours, or just something you picked up being paired with me?"

"It's my guardian defying my expectations."

"Well, I'll try not to disappoint. Assuming of course that is a compliment?" He couldn't keep his lip twitching up into a slight smile.

Dusk hummed in thought. "Would you rather I be honest or tell a fib?"

Acker gave a short low chuckle. "I like you."

He pushed himself off the railing, wrapping his knuckles lightly against it. "Better get started, eh?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four**

Acker was ready more than happy to escape the tower's confines – the novelty had worn off in next to know time. Truly, there was only so long one could be awed by a giant white snooker ball defying the laws of physics and gravity before it got boring. And the newly reborn Guardian was more than eager to get back into the frontier.

Acker wasn't ready to commit and throw himself headlong into an unwinnable war, but he had his own plans. He would retrieve his ship's hyperdrive and then return to the place where he was first revived. For some reason, he believed on some bone-deep level – no, he  _knew_  - that whatever that building was, it may have clues to discovering his former identity. More than anything, he wanted to know  _why_  it spawned such hatred in him. Why he could feel blood boiling and his heart thundering when he first saw that logo.

Whatever it was, he was certain he would find something. Even if it was something as simple as a name. The more he lingered on the idea of not knowing anything before his rebirth in the life, the more Acker grew to despise it.

He would return to the new Sydney Cosmodrone, and he would linger. He would poke and prod the desiccated remains for any whispers of a life long dead and gone. Given what he'd learned of the Fallen however, Acker doubted he would find much in the ways of physical items or properties. Especially in the centuries since his first death.

If nothing else, a conformation of his name would be something. Acker. Ace. Which one was truly his? Both? Neither? Were they just lingering fragments from the shadowed visions that haunted his dreams?

There was only one way to find out.

Regardless, Acker made a promise to himself. He would seek out even this tiny fragment of his former identity and forge himself a new path with it. Unfortunately, he discovered the hard way that he couldn't simply hope into his Arcadia and speed off on his merry way.

That morning, when Acker had geared in his new armour – still a fundamentally weak and light model, but of a higher-grade material than the one Dusk had provided on their initial meeting – he tried to claim his ship that morning. The absolute last thing he wanted or needed was a wild goose chase throughout the tower.

The Technicians attending to his newly polished and refurbished ship refused to allow him access to his transport and directed the new Guardian towards the Shipwright. After a few rounds of witty banter, Amanda Holliday then sent him back to the main plaza with a directive to report to Commander Zavala in the operations room. It was at this time that Dusk 'conveniently' remembered that Zavala had the final authorisation on all launches - Even for routine patrols.

When Acker finally found his way to the operations room, the Vanguard commanders were conspicuously absent. Something about some meeting with the consensus, which he guessed was some sort of ruling council.

Instead, the Crucible master Lord Shaxx stood in the chamber, pouring over maps and data slates while in deep conversation. An adjutant stood at his right hand, who looked to be a titan from the model of her armour, relaying reports and directing other matters.

When the Crucible master spotted him? Well, it apparently wasn't in Shaxx' character to send an 'untrained rookie' out into the unknown without some form of instruction. Whether it be private or in the crucible, and Acker felt his bid for freedom slipping from his fingers like sand.

The Adjutant's name was Isabella Trent, and within seconds of spotting the new risen Guardian, she all but dragged Acker away to the training arena located four tiers below the Vanguard Chambers, for what Shaxx called Mandatory introductory training.

Apparently, there was some form of pomp or policy in place. All new guardians had to meet their vanguard, had to receive basic weapons and armour for their jobs –  _and_  had to pass a small training regime. First up was fire exercise to assess all new Guardian's affinity with weaponry. The second would be a physical training course.

If Acker could pass both within an acceptable margin of error, then he would be allowed to proceed with his mission to retrieve the hyperdrive – and consequently pursue his own personal agenda. If not? Well, then he would be in for a very long and most  _definitely_  painful week.

Acker stood in the alcove of the firing range. Down the range, a series of target frames walked back and forth in programmed patterns to act as target dummies. Their armour plates were severely pommelled and sloppily reforged from countless previous guardians' exercises. Chipped paints and worn joints made the things appear even more wretched. Acker couldn't help wondering if they would just collapse before he even got his first shot off.

As the Titan droned on, he cast his stormy gaze longingly to the weapons arrayed in pieces before him, set next to a row of throwing knives and other weapon varieties. Half-wondering if he'd die of boredom before he even got a chance to venture back into the frontier, Acker tried his best to pay attention but couldn't quite keep pace.

Isabella Trent absolutely insisted on taking him through every monotonous little aspect of gun care and maintenance. Ordinarily a useful skill to possess, but Acker had already disassembled both of his chosen weapons down to the last bolt and screw, and reassembled them with the kind of deftness born from training and experience. Just like when he first held the weapons in his hands, the actions came naturally to him as if he'd trained to handle firearms for years.

Not for the first time since his awakening, Acker wondered if he was a military man in his first life. Or at the very least training to be one given his physical age – he'd peg himself at early twenties if that. He'd ask Dusk for a full biological scan, but age was something of a loose concept when a person joined the ranks of immortals and he doubted she'd give anything more definitive than his own estimate.

Shaking his head of the thought, Acker turned his attention to Isabella once more. He tried to listen, truly he did. But he found his attention drifting more and more. Unfortunately for him, Isabella Trent would notice then launch into a long-winded recap of her lecture. It was after another such lapse in concentration that Acker let his head sink in despair.

_So much for 'We don't have time for this'._  He mused in private irritation.

_Its procedure. Trust me, I know you're itching to get out there and find answers. I'd rather we get into the field so we can get our ship working again, but I absolutely prefer it a hell of a lot more if you learned how to survive for longer than five seconds first._  Dusk shot back over their private link. The Guardian felt a distinct amusement at his mounting annoyance.  _Or would you like to get shot in the shoulder again?_

Acker cast her a dark side-long long.  _Do you have to bring that up?_

_I don't. But I get the feeling that if I don't keep you humble, you'll start getting too big for your breeches._ The Ghost hung at his shoulder, clearly enjoying the schadenfreude.

Acker's dark glance became a petulant scowl.  _Remember how I called you cute? I am… **seriously**  reconsidering that comment._

"Enough jerking around - shoot your targets." Isabella ordered, her voice cracking like a whip.

Resisting the urge to mutter 'finally', Acker snatched up a scout rifle from the table. Fingers curling comfortably around the stock and grip. Lost in his thoughts as he was, the young Guardian couldn't even remember when he'd reassembled it. Aiming down the sight and taking a breath, he squeezed the trigger and -

"Wrong!"

The round went careening off course, hitting a frame in the groin rather than the chest shot Acker was aiming for. The metallic frame collapsed, leg kicking and jerking at an awkward angle as it feebly attempted to right its stance after the bullet tore through the hip joint and destroyed the primary leg servos. Oil sputtered from ruptured support lines.

"Your stance is all wrong –!"

Acker spun, unable to keep the scathing glower from his features.  _What kind of idiot-?!_

"Oof - that looks like it hurt!" A tinny metallic voice cut through whatever corrections Isabella was going to make to Acker's stance and grip. Both Guardians turned to the new visitor.

"Still - Gotta watch those target frames. They can be shifty little bastards." The Hunter Vanguard strode into the room with a confident swagger few could replicate, his hand resting on the grip of his steel. A sleek black and white hand cannon, labelled with a detail Acker couldn't make out from this angle.

"Cayde, I thought the Consensus was in session – you can't just-!" Isabella Trent moved to the Vanguard, but Cayde waved her concerns away.

"Yeah, but what can I say? A whole bunch of angry folks running around in circles isn't exactly my definition of a good time."

"Word." Acker muttered, then promptly withered under Isabella's hard glare.

"The council's in recess while they chit-chat about…" He shrugged in a 'what can you do' manner. "This, that and whatever. Frankly, its stuff that I can't really converse with the locals about. Real hush-hush until I get the go-ahead from Zavala."

Acker couldn't resist a wisecrack wearing a crooked smirk. "Ooo, Sounds ominous."

Cayde nodded solemnly, happy to keep the jovial tone going. "Positively  _diabolical_  I promise. Absolutely earth-shattering revelations –  _aaaand_  the whole world could explode."

The youngest Guardian gave a short bark of laughter. "So, its all manner of bombastic and scandalous then?"

"Ugh, enough!" Isabella cut in, physically standing between the two. Her foul gaze cast towards the younger Guardian who offered a feigned apologetic grin and the Vanguard who maintained his easy-going manner.

Cayde pointed to Acker, metal faceplates forming a grin. "I like this kid."

Acker gave a short bow while his Titan handler scoffed at the notion.

"I never thought I'd meet a Guardian who could match your irritating sense of humour Cayde. And it looks like I've found one. Well done to me." Isabella grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Cayde's ghost twitched its prisms and lowered, giving the impression of a glare towards the Titan. It only lasted for a split second. "Hey, do you know how long I've been waiting to find someone who got my jokes?"

"An eternity, I'd wager." Dusk piped in. Acker raised his fist to her and she bounced against it in a gesture that was meant to resemble a fist bump.

"Eh, in the ball park." Cayde conceded.

" _Enough_. You, back to training." Isabella thrust a finger down the firing range and Acker grumbled, resuming his firing stance.

Cayde peered over his shoulder in the training alcove. "So, let me guess. Mandatory training for your first day into the frontier?"

"Whatever gave it away?" Acker shot back wearily.

Isabella huffed. "Your stance is pathetic. You're not in a duel, you're fighting a dangerous adversary that'll happily paint their abodes with your brains!"

"Well that sounds just charming. Aren't we in a good mood?" Acker teased, Isabella gave him a dirty look.

"Fine. If you think you're so prepared for the frontier, then please. Show me how its done." Isabella made a sweeping motion towards the target frames, her tone oozing bitter sarcasm. "If you truly believe that you can proceed without my advice, then prove it. Land one bullet or throw any knife and hit one of those targets, then I'll leave you be to practice or get yourself killed on your own accord."

Acker glanced over his shoulder, lips pursed in a thin line.  _Gez, who in hell pissed in her coffee this morning?_

_Just shoot the targets._ Dusk instructed.

"Ya know what, I'll up the ante." The Exo Vanguard said with a sly grin, clearly in a betting mood. "There's what, six frames still standing? Kid, if you land one shot of each of those frames, I'll  _personally_  approve your first mission."

"Cayde, you can't just do that! Zavala has the final say on all—" Isabella protested fiercely but it was cut off.

Acker turned to the Hunter Vanguard with a serious expression, weapon at rest. "That a fact?"

"Vanguard's honour, rookie. Show me what you-"

Cayde couldn't finish before Acker rounded back to the targets, expertly shoved a new clip into his Trax Cullum rifle and emptied the clip in a series of thundercracks. Sixteen bullets zoomed across the firing range, all sixteen struck home in vital points. The frames whirred and sputtered as they all collapsed into piles of ruin.

The Exo Vanguard gave an open-mouthed grin while Isabella Trent absolutely fumed, glaring daggers into the youngest Guardian.

"Satisfied?" He sent a challenging look of his own back at the Titan in stern defiance.

"Ha-ha! Not bad! Keep that up and you'll almost be as good as me!" Cayde joked.

Acker turned to the Vanguard. "A deal's a deal."

Cayde nodded in agreement, clearly impressed. "That it is. I'll talk to big blue and get your mission goin'. Bring that Grade A sharpshooting to the field and we'll be glad to have you."

"Its beginners' luck is what it is." Isabella snapped. "Fine, if you want to go off and die like a fool then go right ahead. I don't have time to waste with cocksure up-starts like you."

With that, the acerbic titan stalked past the pair hunters to resume her duties. The bitter scowl etched permanently on her features. Acker watched her leave and resisted the urge to give a one-finger salute. Instead, he reloaded and rearmed himself with the scout and sniper rifles.

Cayde remained silent, his aqua coloured optics peered at Acker's profile for a long moment as if contemplating something. "I swear there's no chance in hell you're just some rookie. Are you real sure you're not one of my scouts and I've just forgotten your name? Cause that-"

The Exo pointed down range to the crippled frames. "That is  _damned_  impressive, especially for a new Risen."

"What can I say – Guess I'm called 'Ace' for a reason." Acker replied plainly, making his way out towards the landing and missing the stunned double-take of his Hunter Vanguard.

* * *

**Author's note:**  So, I'm sorry that this took so long on the back burner. Long story short, my life has entered a transition phase. I had to repeat my Post Graduate Certificate (graduated now, thankfully) and I've been on the job market. I'm now in my second job and its been busy as sin.

Thankfully, with the advent of Destiny Forsaken, my muse has started screaming in my ear again. Here's hoping this will last. I long for when Acker and Cayde have a true reunion and to review Acker's personal history. :D

Please comment and review, as always, I welcome feedback.

Aurora313


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

**The Ace of Spades**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

_I dunno. But I've got a good feeling about this new kid, Ace. Got a good head on his shoulders. Razor sharp wit and even better shot. You shoulda seen it! Even made old Shaxx's protégé shut her mouth – kinda think that had more to do with the fuming than the actual shooting though (Izzie never liked being shown up – especially by rookies.)._

_Reckon you'd like him? I think you would._

_O'course, like a true hunter, when there's the whiff of a challenge about – he jumped at the call and brought everything to bare. And with my personal stamp of approval, he's off on his first 'official' mission. Something about retrieving a hyperdrive for his ship. Pretty simple run, keepin' the training wheels on for now. Wouldn't be proper if a days-old guardian got killed on his first outing with my name on his mission report. Think of my reputation, Ace! My precious rep!_

_Joking aside. Thing is: He said somethin' that got me thinking. See, he called himself 'Ace' too._

_I know, I know. Sounds like I'm jumping to conclusions don't it? 'Ace' is… occasionally a common enough nickname - but it'd be awesome, right? An Ace that became a Guardian. An Ace that this Lughead could spend some time with? Maybe make up for lost time. And a chance to actually be a proper dad; slip from the Vanguard post every now and again when Ikora and Zavala ain't lookin' - go on crazy adventures, kick ass and take names._

_If… you know - you wanted it._

_Ah, who the hell am I kidding? That's nauseatingly optimistic, even for me – and I'm nothing but sunshine and rainbows! … (eh, most of the time). But I know better than to get my hopes up. Even the once-a-blue-moon times I bring it up with Sundance, ya know after a round or dozen in the hanger, she always says the same thing. I can tell it breaks her metaphorically little heart to do it too: It'd be an act of God – well, the Traveller technically, but that's beside the point. Some divine roll of the die that's waaaaaaaaay outside anything I got control of. A gamble of damned long odds. Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a betting man._

_But let's be real, yes? T_ _here's no way in hell of making that conversation anything but awkward._

_"Hi! I'm 90% sure I'm your dad from before the Collapse. Wanna go shoot up some Fallen?" – sounds so stupid, doesn't it?_

_Besides, I don't think Big Blue would really approve of one of my Hunters calling me 'Dad'. Probably thinks it's either a creepy… well, ya know – or he'll just disapprove with that brooding scowl of his. Never liked his Guardians snooping in the past. Can't really say that I blame him – not everyone's so fortune to have a piece of the past dumped in their lap when they're reborn... and those that do, well - how can they be sure its a past they'll even like?_

_So the whole 'father/son guardian duo' thing? Yeah, probably wouldn't 'be good for morale' or something like that. (Also for the record? YES. If you ever came back as a Guardian while I'm still kickin' and if you're anything BUT a Hunter? You're Grounded with a capital G.)_

_All that aside; if I'm speaking honestly here? (and yes, I know I'm jumping the gun with this boat load of speculation based on some half-heard mutter I probably wasn't supposed to hear anyway.) Way I see it; by some act of the Traveller this kid is you. The honest-to-Light flesh-and-blood real deal. The kid I've been writing to all along. That means I can do what I said and make up for lost time. Be a real dad. Cayde and his firecracker Ace, taking the solar system by storm._

_Or… this kid ain't you and just happened to give himself the same nickname? (That itself being a massive cosmic coincidence.)_

_Well… nothing would ever replace you or your mother in my heart and mind, but uh… a deck's allowed to have than one 'Ace' right?_

_Anyways. I'll talk to you soon, kiddo._

_Dad._

"Cayde." Ikora Rey's voice cut through the Exo Vanguard's bubble of thoughts as keenly as any blade.

Cayde's cyan optics found Ikora's brown eyes, casually closing his journal after signing the last entry and smoothly replacing the ancient book back in his waist pouch. Ikora had her hands clasped imperiously behind her back. She moved with a casual easy grace that could become a killing strike in an instant. Something that not even being stuck behind a Vanguard's ops table could diminish.

They were in the grey marble hallway that surrounding the exterior of the consensus chamber, paved with velveteen rugs of a rich blue. The entire outer wall was made from thick armoured glass lined by vanished wooden railings. The view it offered was spectacular. Especially at this time in the evening, where the sun was just setting over the horizon.

"Ikora, my favourite Warlock. What brings you my way?" Cayde pushed himself off the railing he'd been leaning against, hands resting on his belt.

"The Consensus is still discussing their options, but I have other matters I need to discuss with you first."

"Why do I get the feelin' I'm in trouble?" Cayde questioned wryly. "Cause whatever it is, I swear I didn't do it…  _this_  time."

Ikora simply turned and walked onward, her Exo counterpart matched her step for step. "I hadn't failed to notice the addenda you attached to the proposal we're putting forward to the consensus."

"Oh." Cayde blinked, then raised his hands in submission. "Okay, yeah, then that's totally my fault. You caught me. Good job."

Ikora sighed, prepared to reiterate the same point she's made hundreds and times over and again in as many years. "You're proposing to lift the blockade on the moon."

"On Luna if we're bein' specific, but that's neither here nor there." Cayde replied with an easy casual tone. "Besides, 'lift the blockade' isn't really what I was going for, more… opening it up for more fireteams to do sweep and clear missions."

"We have enough Fallen activity on Earth to contend with, do you really wish to add another burden to our already over-taxed resources?" Ikora countered. "You know that Zavala would disapprove. Not to mention, the Speaker himself signed off on that ban."

"Yeah, but Big Blue's never been too fond of the whole rule breaking thing. Besides, what's more important – breaking a few arbitrary rules, or getting fresh intel on our enemies?" Cayde countered, crossing him arms over his torso. "And hey. Don't think I don't see the reports crossing your desk, I  _know_  you've got some of your Hidden snooping around on Luna."

Ikora gave a conceding nod, though her tone was steel. "I have Hidden everywhere, Cayde. However, if Zavala was included in this conversation, he would rather focus on the threat at our doorstep not the one in the stars."

Cayde shot her a grin, "See, this is why I  _didn't_  bring it up with Zavala first… last thing I need is him scolding me for 'reckless misuse of resources' or something." He gestured skyward as if Luna loomed directly above them and once again taking a serious tone. "I consider our own moon to be our doorstep. As for the Fallen on Earth? Well…"

Ikora turned her gaze towards him, eyebrow raised in expectation. When Cayde didn't give her a prompt answer, she continued. "I've removed the addenda from discussion."

"Oh - come on…" Cayde protested.

"Before you throw a tantrum hear my proposal first," Ikora cut him off, "This isn't a matter to bring before the Consensus. For the time being, this is a Vanguard issue. I know you were planning to strong-arm Zavala into agreeing with you by swaying public opinion."

"Hey, your word, not mine. And frankly 'strong arm' ain't the term I'd use." Cayde retorted under his breath, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "Look, I know what's got Zavala's up in airs about the whole idea. Traveller knows I'm not looking for another Mare Imbrium. But if half of what Soren-7 is sending my way is anything  _close_  to true, we need more eyes on Luna pronto. Something's got the Hive in a tizzy and I think the City'll be better off if we get a few scout teams on Luna."

"Bodies that could quickly become corpses."

Cayde blocked her path, a faux pondering expression on his features. "It's weird - it's like I'm  _seeing_  Ikora Rey but I'm  _hearing_  Zavala."

"Is Zavala wrong in this instance? Luna is the Hive's territory." Ikora answered, Cayde leaned back face plates set in a line. "Though, I do see your point. My Hidden have reported thoroughly unsettling things happening on Luna, both on the surface and in the catacombs. Until we gain more conclusive information, we should focus our efforts on an old Cosmodrone in Russia."

"Why, what's going on in Russia?" Cayde inquired, frowning as they continued on their way. Some reports may have crossed his terminal, but he wasn't able to skim them before the Consensus came calling.

"I don't know. But the Fallen have gathered in force. It appears The House of Devils' Prime Servitor Sepiks Prime has been relocated there."

"The House of Devils." Cayde echoed, groaning. "Stubborn insufferable pains in the ass."

"I'm sure you'd have that in common." Ikora replied. Her Exo counterpart had laughed at that. "Regardless, I'm sure you can understand why this would be a higher priority."

Cayde considered it for a moment. "Best bet's to put a bounty out on him. I think four or five ks of glimmer would be enough. With luck, there'll be one less servitor in the verse."

"Mmm." Ikora agreed.

"So what do you wanna do? Are we keeping the ban on Luna – maintain the permanent blockade?"

"We will have to discuss the matter with Zavala after Sepiks and his Devils have been dealt with. If he agrees, then we'll take the proposal to the Speaker. With a more immediate threat taken care off, I'm sure Zavala can be convinced to turn his gaze upwards." Ikora answered.

"So you'll back me up on that one?"

The Warlock Vanguard gave a slow nod. "To a point, yes. I agree that preemptive action must be taken, but we shouldn't engage unless there's no other options. Information is key here."

Cayde resisted the urge to do a little fist pump. "For once? I agree. Slow and steady wins the race on this one."

"Excuse me. Ikora Rey? Cayde-6?" An adjutant wearing slate grey duty garments approached the two Vanguard and offered a crisp salute. "Forgive the interruption, but the Consensus has reconvened. Your presence is requested at once."

"Duty calls." Ikora said. "Shall we?"

"Yeah. Give me a second."

Cayde glanced out the window, his half-hooded optics peering at the setting sun and filtering out the haze so it didn't damage his retinal display. He found his mind tracing back to the young Guardian and to Ace… he wondered where they were right now. Before shaking his head clear of the thoughts and striding after Ikora.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

_Acker was falling. Down, down, down into an inky sea of blackness._

_There was a mere instant of excruciating agony, exploding outward from his right eye then the rest of his skull. And then there was nothingness. Eternity had sought fit to wedge itself into that fraction of a second._

_But this blackness was different from the all-encompassing oblivion Acker had experienced before Dusk's light had found him. A realm where thought and feeling – even a sense of self – was entirely absent. But this… this was… more a sense of being in a darkened nondescript tunnel with a proper destination. And he had retained his sense of identity. Albeit and abstract and distant version of it._

_A strangely familiar warmth wrapped him in a blanket as he felt his legs carrying him onward at a slow amble. Like some force – or perhaps 'will' was a better word? – propelled him forward._

_Within that blackness Acker could sense… something at his destination. A warm flickering ember, like the light of a candle that could spark into a roaring inferno or wither and die._

_Acker could almost visualise it. Felt himself walking towards it. Mesmerized. Transfixed. His bare left hand suddenly appeared, reaching out to touch it. Tentatively, fingers just brushing the edges of the dancing spark that zoomed, suddenly shifting into an orb with a life of its own, orbiting his hand in spastic motions._

_Its path illuminated the contours of his hand in all its detail, the spade tattoo etched on the back of his hand. Trails dragged behind it, catching and sputtering like ignited flint. It split in two. In four. Eight. Dozens. Fire crackled._

_The embers burned! But he felt no pain. He oddly welcomed the tingling feeling. From the tips of his fingers, up his wrist and arm, up his shoulder. Something deep inside reached up to meet it. But then, he was yanked abruptly away from it. Drawn like a poison from a wound._

_Ripped from the void, voices chased him back to consciousness. Snippets of conversations he never had – or perhaps, couldn't remember happening. They nearly overcame him._

_"I beg you, please-!"_

_A gun shot._

_"… what have you done!?"_

_"-ve up, kid-"_

_More gunshots like the crack of thunder._

_"-won't win-"_

_"I'll KILL YOU ALL!" It was his own this time._

_The last voice was familiar but distant, as if filtered and amplified through a vocal modulator. "… Ace?!"_

_"- **DAD**!"_

Acker bolted upright, head splitting in pain.

The Vandal above him jumped, startled. Instinct kicked in and immediately, action overrode any thoughts in the young Guardian's agony-addled mind. Blood pumped through his veins and his heart hammered like a drum. Immediately, his backhand bashed away the rifle's muzzle in a feral sweeping arc, followed by a low sweeping kick that collided painfully against the alien's knee joints.

The Vandal buckled, too stunned to do anything more than stare and sound its pain as Acker ripped his combat knife from its sheath, flipped it in his grip and plunged it deep into the alien's carapace-like helm wearing a vicious snarl under his helm. Hissing white ether spewed from the death wound as the Vandal's lanky frame went completely slack and slumped to the ground in a heap.

Acker stumbled back, eyes scrunched closed and teeth grit as he collapsed on his haunches. Head cradled in his hands and overtaken by a throbbing pain. Of their own accord, his hands pressed over his right eye slit.

"Acker," Dusk's voice came from both without and within, becoming a beacon to guide him away from the phantom pain that assaulted his senses. "Acker, focus on my voice. Breathe."

He did as he was instructed, taking slow measured breaths through tightly gritted teeth. In a few dragging seconds, his heartbeat slowed to a more comfortable pace. The stinging in his right eye lessened to near nothing and his breathing calmed.

"Are you with me?" Dusk probed gently, floating before his face.

One more exhale later and Acker was finally willing to give a nod. "Y-Yeah… yeah, I'm with you."

It took a few minutes for him to re-orientate himself and remember exactly where he was. He was in one of the star ports littering the mainland of old Australia. Not the same port where he'd found his Arcadia, but this once served as a maintenance yard. It was as good a choice as any to start looking. He glanced around to get a better grasp of his position. This was some kind of industrial unit, shipping crates and half-crumbled concrete structures littered the area, crowding in on each other like conspiring fishwives.

Shaking his head as if to physically rid himself off the lingering pain, Acker peered at his side where the dead Vandal lay and pushed it away with a grunt of disgust. Underneath was his Trax Cullum scout rifle, wrecked beyond his ability to repair.

"Prick scored a lucky shot." Acker grumbled, poking at the shattered pieces. No chance of repairing that piece now.

"Got you right through the eye."

An involuntary shudder ran through his spine, remembering the instant his visor shattered and shook his head again. "Like I said, the son of a bitch scored a lucky shot. Won't be so lucky next time."

Hoisting himself to his feet with some effort, Acker withdrew his sniper-rifle and ejected the cartridge. "I have four bullets left in this thing. Dusk, how are my reserves looking?"

"Depressing."

"Yeah, 'Depressing' doesn't help me." Acker retorted bitterly. Dusk's prisms expanded, projecting pulses of cyan light from her scanners.

"We'll have to scrounge around for some engrams. I'm sure some Fallen might have looted a few in their time here." Dusk supplied. "But I think we should best hurry and find ourselves some cover. I don't want another surprise like last time."

"Agreed." Acker nodded, blinking and wishing dearly he had a moment to remove his helm and rub the irritating itch in his eye. "We need to find somewhere we can scout the interior. Fallen like dark places, right? I doubt they'll like being in the open air too much. So if they won't come to me, then I'll just have to go to them."

The Guardian raised his hand for Dusk to rest, she disappeared in a shower of blue sparks. Acker primed his rifle and proceeded along the path way, keeping his back to the wall and his scope on trained on all possible points of aggression.

"Acker." Dusk began over their bond, there was a tinge of melancholy in her tone.

"Sup?"

"When I brought you back… you screamed for your father."

Acker paused, squatting with his back pressed against the wall of a small alcove and frowned. The voices that haunted his death dream returned to him in a jumble. But the two he could remember clearly was someone calling him Ace. And he shouting in return. He was silent and motionless for a moment.

"… I think… that he was the one I was looking for. My dad. Before all of this." He admitted.

"Looking for?"

Acker shook his head once fiercely and rose to his feet again. "Nevermind. We'll answer those questions later. Right now, all I want to do is find the Vandal who nailed me in the eye and repay the favour with  _extreme_  prejudice."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Six**

Dusk projected a blue energy beam at the access terminal while Acker kept his weapon high, carefully making rounds about the room while keeping a keen eye on their lone point of egress. His sniper rifle was mag-locked to his back and down four bullets. That same number of Dregs lay in sprawled bleeding heaps to one side of the command hub, faint trails of white ether still hissed from their death-wounds like steam.

They'd managed to sneak into one of the hanger buildings with a little luck and happened upon some sort of back-up control room. Fortunately this time Acker was smart enough to get the jump on the Fallen first, shooting two with quick pot shots and ending the other pair before they had a chance to lounge at him with their daggers. Though with four high calibre shots echoing through the hallway, the young guardian imagined they wouldn't have long before more Fallen came to investigate.

In search for ammo, Acker had found a white engram amongst his loot and Dusk had paused her hacking long enough to work her deciphering magic on the thing, revealing a white coloured hand cannon. The model was a Duke Mk. 10 and would serve as a passable replacement for his Trax Cullum. The sights were slightly misaligned and there was minor surface corrosion, but the weapon seemed sturdy enough and beggars couldn't be choosers in this situation. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he'd probably be able to buy a service kit with the glimmer he'd found when he got back to the city, if not a whole new weapon.

Acker moved to the entry way, back pressed against the side wall and peaked out. He frowned, anxiety mounting. He had expected more bad guys to come swooping in. But the hallway was curiously clear.

Either these Fallen were incredibly thick, or much more likely, they were preparing a trap further in the facility. But knowing his general luck today? Acker was willing to place good money on the latter option.

"Ah ha!" Dusk chirped, cutting through his morose thoughts.

"Finally found a way in?" Acker pushed off the wall to join her at the terminal.

"It wasn't 'finding a way in' so much as finding anything of moderate use." Dusk clarified, but she peered at the console with mild curiosity.

It was as if when she stumbled upon this data packet, everything just fell in her metaphorical lap.

"A guardian's been here. Another Ghost tunnelled through these systems, and recently. I thought this encryption lock was architecturally different than a Fallen's standard template. They tend to be more hacky-slashy with their decryption attempts of Golden Age tech." She paused to simulate an irked huff. "I swear, it's like they're taking a Warsat to hammer in a nail. Its just—"

"Dusk," Acker prompted, lip curling in amusement under his helm while gesturing, "Love the tech talk, but we're on a timetable and we really do need to focus here."

"Oh. Right - the point is this information hub's been restored to a decent measure of functionality. I wonder if we can get a…? Got it. A map of the factory district." Dusk floated a little higher, shooting one last pulse at the terminal. "Et Voilà."

"Nice," Acker complimented.

The display above flickered to life, revealing a map of the facility and the surrounding area. He leaned forward, running his fingers over the projection mentally noting possible kill-zones and ambush points.

"It was a simple 3-tier lock down with a 2056-bit encryption key with several centuries of entropy working against me. But it seems whomever was here first was kind enough to pave the way for me. Not exactly rocket science, but please feel free to keep the compliments coming." Dusk answered with a lint of pride.

"Keep up the good work and they'll flow like water," Acker joked before his tone became stern and he tapped a sector just eighty metres from their position. "This area here. This looks like it was a hanger of some sort."

"Hanger bay Zeta-777. From what I've deciphered here, there was an archeotech transport ship docked there. Probably some precursor design to the City Hawks. But my internal senses detect its already left."

"Looted?"

Dusk bobbed, a gesture meant to resemble a shrug. "Probably. Smart conclusion to draw would be whichever guardian was here recently must have taken it for their own personal transport. It's quite possible that unlike us they were fortunate enough to have a warp drive intact."

"So, does that mean our little quest here was botched from the get-go?" Acker questioned pointedly, irritation mounting.

Dusk hummed. "… I don't want to say anything for certain, but it does seem that way."

Acker threw his arms up, making a loud noise in exasperation.

"Getting frustrated won't help." Dusk turned to face him, her prisms rotating as she floated towards him. She gently bumped against his temple to get his attention. She couldn't see it, but she sensed her guardian was pouting under his helm. "Hey. Listen. We knew that this was going to be a long slog. Just because our first spot didn't turn up any-"

The Ghost paused, her all seeing blue eye turning away and prisms expanding. She was scanning.

"Dusk?" Acker prompted, wrong footed.

"Hold on…" she answered distantly. "Okay, scratch that. I'm detecting a warp drive's energy signature… its… it's still in the building somewhere. But I can't seem to get a closer lock. I think there might be some interference. Possibly Fallen tech?"

Acker nodded and went back to the map with a new resolve. "Okay. So… Hagger bay Zeta-777 is here, it's the biggest area in the building and probably where most of them are hauled up. Clear lines of sight to all three access ways. Look," He tapped three points on the map with a finger. "They're picture perfect kill boxes. The Fallen could set up choke points and we'd be completely shredded trying to breach those lines."

"If that theory's sound, then they're certainly not making it easy." Dusk floated at his shoulder.

Acker made a noise of agreement, lowering his attention to the console. With a few key presses, he manipulated the view from bird's eye to horizontal perspective and peered at it with scrutiny. "But, and correct me if I'm wrong, that system there is ventilation… we could – ah, nah, forget it."

"Tell me." Dusk prompted, peering at him.

Acker brought his hand to his chin in thought. "I was gonna say if this is a ventilation system, and if I had a grenade, I could toss it down and really get their ears ringing. I'd use the distraction to punch through at least the first line. Then, it's a matter of just using their cover against them… trade-off is the 'nades would have to be well-placed. If it misses by even half a metre, we'd be completely screwed."

"Draw them off then?" Dusk suggested, "Turn their tactical advantage against them."

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"We had to disable a Fallen communication device before we could sneak in, remember? To do that I had to disconnect it from their alarm system. If we could find another device, I can trigger an alarm. Any commander worth their salt would send troops to investigate. At least the first couple times."

"And that'd thin out the herd enough for me to get a shot at nabbing a drive. I like it." Acker nodded in agreement. "If we can draw them away a handful at a time. I can kill them off. But there's a single impediment to that idea. I'll still need grenades for clearing the room when I get there."

"I can synthesis a grenade from the materials on them." Dusk floated over to the Fallen corpses, she turned to her Guardian. "It'll be crude, but effective."

"You can do that?"

"With enough materials I can make whatever you want: Egg cooker, nuclear fusion device."

"Egg cooker?" Acker paused for a second and chuckled once, checking his gun. "Just as many grenades as you can give me. Set up a nav point to the overseer's office on the northern access way, that'll probably be my best bet in. And if you can, get me a count on how many are in the building. Knowing how many Fallen are skulking about will give us a better idea of just how much of a miracle we need to pull this off."

Acker held out his hand palm up. Dusk floated to him and disappeared in a shower of blue-white sparks.

"Updating your HUD's navigation."

A blue sweeping light swept over his visor, momentarily interposing a light blue grid pattern over his surroundings before a grey navigation point appeared towards the right. "While you're working your way through the facility, I'll work on synthesising those grenades. No offense, but I prefer not to be out in the open if I can help it."

"Yeah, I got it. If you die I die." Acker peered down both ends of the corridor, before moving down the right passage way.

"Technically, I can die and you still can survive. Its 'if I die you can't resurrect'."

Acker couldn't resist the urge to throw her words back at her. "Now who's posing distinctions?"

"To quote a Warlock with whom I travelled for many years," Dusk began before her tone turned petulant. " _Bite me_."

Acker would have laughed had the situation permitted him to do so, but he remained focused on his task at hand. As the young Guardian advanced, he quickly concluded that whatever was interfering with Dusk's scanners was messing with his motion tracker. The thing was completely useless. Kept picking up false readings that had him jumping at shadows.

Of course, that meant when he turned the next corner to a larger hallway-

"CRAP!" Acker dove behind cover, avoiding the arc bolts by the skin of his teeth and cursed his luck.

Six dregs and three Vandals had him pinned. Acker pressed his back against one of the room's support pillars, not even flinching as arc rounds zoomed past the makeshift cover. He expected to be shaking if he was honest. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, there was no doubt about that. But he expected the fight or flight instinct kicking in and primal fear screaming from every fibre of his being to run and hide. But he felt nothing of the sort. Only a practiced calm and clarity that came from years of training and drills.

 _Dusk, I need those grenades._  Acker demanded over their mental link, wincing only slightly as one bolt whizzed past just a bit too close for comfort and pressing his back further into the pillar. The Fallens' weapons ate away at his makeshift cover.

_Synthesising. Hold out your hand._

Acker held out his right hand. A grenade the size of a small rock appeared in a small shower of orange-yellow sparks, landing in his palm. "Fire in the hole."

He lobbed it around the corner. Within a second of hearing its metallic shell bounce off the wall the grenade exploded, sending Fallen bodies flying. Acker drew in a breath before peaking his cover, his hand cannon aimed and ready through the smoke.

As if reading his thoughts, Dusk had switched his vision to some sort of rudimentary thermal vision. Two Fallen were down, the rest were staggered and stunned. Acker shot three quick rounds into two Dregs. Their bodies crumpled to the ground like puppets with their strings cut. Another shot nailed a Vandal between the eyes. The last two slugs in the cartridge nailed a second Vandal dead centre.

Acker withdrew to his cover, reloading.

_Dusk. Headcount._

_One Vandal, Two Dregs lef - DUCK!_

Acker dropped instantly. A Dreg had charged from the right, brandishing an electrified Halberd and swung the thing wide aiming for his head. The Guardian ripped his combat knife off his belt pouch with his right hand and swung in kind. The serrated edge sliced across the Dreg's stomach in an arc. It howled in pain as alien ichor spilled from the wound. While it was staggered, Acker hooked his right arm around the alien's arm threw himself from cover, using its mass as a shield. Just in time for the second remaining Dreg to impale his new meat shield with its spear. Acker's hand cannon fired three loud shots in quick succession. Two aimed at the last Vandal impacting it right in the chest, the third at the uninjured Dreg. At this range, he wouldn't miss the head shot.

Once they were all down, Acker flipped the knife expertly in his grip and stabbed his hostage's throat. Hissing ether and blood issued from the wound and Acker let the fresh cadaver slump. His eyes surveyed the aftermath of the skirmish.

Only now, he let himself breath. "Thanks for the heads up."

"My pleasure. You're… uh, you're better at this than I thought."

"Looks like I am when my head's in the game." Acker cleaned the knife off on a piece of cloth he tore from a Fallen then sheathed it. "Could you scan the area? Let me know how many are left." He spread his arms, as if to offer the room. "This was a hell of a fluke. I doubt I'll get this lucky again."

"Scanning… interesting. My sensors are cleared now... maybe you destroyed the source of the interference with that grenade?"

Acker glanced around. "Don't see anything resembling any kind of jamming tech," he waded through the skirmish lines, peering at the detonation sight. "Just a bunch of cargo crates... gimme a headcount."

"There's seven left. Most of them congregating in the Hanger like we expected." Dusk chimed in. "Oh, good news. I've detected the energy of a warp drive. Bad news, its already in Fallen hands."

He gave an exasperated sigh. "Fan-freaking-tastic. And with that explosion, I most definitely won't have the element of surprise anymore."

"So, the whole 'grenade down the chute' idea's out then?" Dusk didn't need a conformation, Acker just reloaded his cannon and moved on. "I hope you're ready for this."

"Ain't like I've got a choice. Just tell me when you can synthesis another grenade. I've got the feeling I'll need it."

Acker proceeded ahead after looting the Fallen for glimmer and ammo. He'd found a new armour piece, but decided he didn't exactly have the time to play dress up. He had to remain focused, and anything beyond surviving long enough to get that warp drive was a distraction. Dusk expressed a minor concern that decision would bite him in the ass, but Acker pushed them aside.

He came upon some sort of observation room or overseer's office and allowed himself in, crouching low as he approached the far doorway. The ancient door was nothing but splinters and kindling, ripped aside by inhuman strength. Beyond was the gantry above the hanger. The floor was full of metal skeletons that might have once been conveyor belts, or large rusted metal constructs that could have been automated repair limbs. But the Fallen had long since picked this place clean of anything remotely resembling human technology.

Now, it was redecorated with alien shaped devices networked into some kind of relay station. Cargo containers littered the floor and hung from the gantries from some kind of reinforced mesh. The roof had worn away long ago as well, revealing a bare scaffold, and the waning moon illuminated the entire place in a pale glow.

"They're down stairs." Dusk supplied as Acker crouched by the doorway.

"You know I can't help but think there's a high ground joke to be made here, but for the life of me I just can't see it." He joked lightly before holding his right hand out, another grenade materialised in his waiting palm.

On the count of three, Acker lobbed the grenade into the bay as a distraction. The concussive force set off a secondary explosion somewhere and he heard the death chitter of a Fallen Vandal. He pulled from cover and immediately fired his weapon. The firefight was over faster than his anticipated. Knocked off balance by the secondary explosion of what seemed like a fuel container. He leapt from his cover and gained sight of his remaining enemies, swiftly dispatching two of them with three rounds each. The last Vandal managed to get eyes on him, shooting an arc bolt his way. Acker dove to the metal gantry, quickly reloading the cannon as more arc bolts streamed past him. Sucking in a breath, he pulled from cover and shot the entire cartridge at the Vandal below, punching it full of holes.

"... well. I expected that to be much harder." Dusk supplied over his helm comms as Acker climbed to his feet, reloading once again. This hand cannon was better than he thought. Maybe he'll get one as a back up when he returned to the city.

"So did I..." He replied distantly, frowning as he peered at the bodies. "Wait. I count six fallen... where's the seven-?"

"Behind you!" Dusk screamed in his ear.

Acker spun with his gun ready to fight but it was bashed out of his hand before he could squeeze the trigger, a second armour-bulked arm chased the first, clipping his chin and spending Acker headlong over the guard rail. His body crashed to the ground, hard. The impact sent shock through his entire system and left him winded. A distant scatter of dull aches made it abundantly clear that several bones had been cracked, if not broken.

The Archon landed in only a slight crouch as the guardian struggled to recover from the landing, still winded. The creature gripped him by the helm and threw him had against one of the hanger's walls... several metres away. Bones definitely broke that time. He landed flat on his left side, arm pinned under his flank and when he looked up, he realised his visor had been cracked from the fall.

The Archon lumbered forward, gripping Acker by his free arm and wretched him up. The Guardian gave a sudden gasp of pain, feeling the shoulder pop from its socket. It held him aloft, letting him hang like a limp rag doll as it peered at him with what he could only guess was a mix of hatred and disgust.

_Dusk... grenade..._

_Acker, you-!_

_Now...!_

"H-hey..." Acker swallowed hard, "... asshole. Wanna see a magic trick?"

Acker lifted his left hand, the grenade transmatting just on top of his palm. Before the Archon could register the device, his thumb pressed the activation stud and let the thing slip from his grasp.

The Grenade exploded at their feet, the concussive force sending Archon and Guardian both flying. Bits of shrapnel lodging in his melted armour. His ears run from the impact and his head cracked hard against the ground. The next few seconds were a pained blurry daze. Acker couldn't do much more than groan in pain. Even Dusk's voice was a distant vague thing he couldn't understand. What he could tell was that he was definitely concussed.

The next thing he knew, gnarled three-fingered claws snatched him by the throat and hoisted him up. Acker's limbs dangled lifelessly while the Fallen Archon spewed some incomprehensible chatter. The Guardian didn't listen, couldn't focus. He blinked away the blurry edges of his vision and tried to lower his gaze to the Fallen. The explosion had compromised its armour as much as his, melting places and burning others. But most importantly, leaving a soft fleshy part of its neck exposed to the world.

In a swift motion that surprised the both of them, Acker gripped his knife with his remaining functional arm and stabbed it into the exposed skin. The Archon stumbled back, gurgling as blood filled its alien maw and spilled down its front armour.

Acker hit the ground hard again, the jolt sent lances of pain through his burnt flesh. Sucking in a breath, he rolled over with a grunt of effort and spotted his hand cannon a few feet away. Gingerly pushed himself to his feet, Acker half-limped, half-stumbled to the thing and scooped it up with some difficulty. His sense of balance seemed transient, but he managed a slow amble to where the Archon was on its knees, clutching its mangled throat. With no small effort, Acker raised the hand cannon between all eight of its eyes and fired. The weapon bucked painfully in his grip, but the single shot did its job and the Archon fell back in a heap.

Acker breathed heavily, and the blurriness filled his vision. There was a sudden shift of orientation and he fell back.

Everything was fading into blackness, but even with his vision fading, he could see the faint spark of light that seemed to pool in his palm. This was the third time he'd seen it. It was warm and comforting like a fire pit. Distantly, he wanted to grasp it. Almost felt like he could cradle the precious thing in his hand, before he'd lost consciousness completely.

"Hold on, I've got you." Dusk soothed, her prisms expanding as pulses of white light washed over his body. It was like time was playing in reverse. The wounds faded and the armour stitched itself back together, pristine as if fresh off the assembly line.

"Ah!... Gez." He simply lay on his back for a moment, breathing hard as the last of his adrenaline wore. "Hell's bells, that was exhausting..."

"You're a reckless fool, you know that?"

"Best get used to it cause that's just how I roll." Acker pushed himself back to his feet gingerly, pain already a shadow of memory as he stretched out his right arm and leg. "Much better. You know, the getting injured part sucks, but I could get used to the whole superhero 'high speed regeneration' thing."

"Glad to be of service."

Acker scooped up his hand cannon and noted with some pleasant surprise that the thing still worked. "But I have to say, now that we're relatively safe and all that... that was the  _stupidest_  thing I've ever seen! You could have ended up with more than burn, broken bones and a concussion!"

"I lived, didn't I?" Acker rolled his shoulder and neck, feeling a satisfying crack in the former.

"I'll have to give you that, thank the traveller. In other news, you just killed an Archon and we just bagged ourselves a warp drive. This could cripple the Fallen." Dusk hovered over the Archon and projected a beam at its pack. "Wait… this is Riksis, Archon of Sepiks Prime."

"Archons are pretty high up then?" Acker surmised.

"They're leaders of their houses! This one is the House of Devils. I don't understand, he's supposed to be in Russia with the rest of his house? What could he be doing out here?"

Acker raised an eyebrow. "Okay, hate to be that guy, but what the hell's a 'Sepiks Prime'?"

"Later." Dusk moved to him. "I don't agree with how you did it, but you killed an Archon on your first official mission. I'm proud of you. And you should be too. Now that we've got the warp drive, we can head back to the city and get it installed. We'll be able to travel to other planets in no-"

"Yeah, not quite yet," Acker cut her off, reloading his gun. He was moderately pleased to discover it hadn't incurred any major damage from the fall. "There's somewhere I want to go first."

"What do you mean?" Dusk objected.

"The building where you found me, I want to go back there and try to figure things out."

"But, that place could be crawling with Fallen. You barely survived fighting an Archon!"

"I doubt there'll be one of these ugly bastards out there. Besides, don't you remember what I said the other day? If you want me to fight for others, I've gotta figure out why I fight for myself first. And I got a feeling that place may hold those answers."

"Acker… I should probably point out that for Guardians to go looking into their pasts. Its, well, not something the current Vanguard sanction."

"And yet, forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest. And I guess I'm counting on you not to rat me out." Acker answered casually then his expression turned serious behind his helm. "You heard me cry out for my father when you revived me earlier. I have a pretty good feeling that he was the one I was looking for. And whatever that was all about, that building may hold my answers."

"Do you have a feeling, or are you basing this on a hunch?" Dusk accused.

"Okay - I admit I've got jack squat. But something about that place  _had_  to have pissed me off enough that I still remember that hatred. Even though Guardians aren't technically supposed to retain their memories – don't get me started on how BS that is, by the way."

"I just don't want you wasting your time on a fool's errand is all." Dusk floated towards him, finding a place to 'rest' on his shoulder. "I'm with you every step of the way, I'm just worried you won't like what you find at the end - if you even find the end at all. The trail is centuries dead."

"I appreciate it, but I promise I'd like things a hell of a lot less if I don't try. And I think I owe it to myself and to my dad - however many years dead he may be - to at least look into it." Acker answered firmly, then shook his head. "Regardless of whatever some arbitrary rules say about it - Letting it lie just won't sit right with me. Now, can you do me a solid and bring the ship around? Flying back to that place is probably safer than walking the whole distance. Quicker too."

"Oh…" Dusk muttered, slightly distracted. "That reminds me; when we get back to the City I need to talk to Amanda about getting you a sparrow."

"A what now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Full discourse, this chapter was a bit of a slog. Kept rewriting and rewriting until it became at least twice as big as I expected. That being said, I am happy to announce we will see the second of our protagonists in the next chapter. And onto you all.
> 
> First of all, I would like to express my sincere gratitude about how readily and cheerfully people have taken to the return of this fic. Your reviews have been the highlight of my long days at work and they never cease to put a smile on my face or give me things to think about. I enjoy reading every single one of them.
> 
> Now, onto the matters of Forsaken. Some have expressed concern over whether or not I'll kill Cayde if this fic reaches the point of Forsaken. In honesty? I don't want to give a firm answer. My rationale is Cayde would most likely (if not definitely) want to make up lost time for his son, but he's also a Hunter and they are very much of the 'Leap First, ask questions later' personality type. But if you truly think the second he regained consciousness that Acker wouldn't leap into that hole after Cayde with his trusty arc staff and Way of the Current? Then you don't know the first thing about this kid or the lengths he's gone to get his dad back. In this life or the last. Hashtag: Foreshadowing.
> 
> That being said, I am tempted to make a fic that runs parallel to this one which follows the events of Forsaken. Somewhat canon divergence to Ace of Spades, but loyal to the spirit of it. Best way to describe it would be kind of like using a boost character version of Ace as opposed to the one that actually played through the campaigns from D1 vanilla. But I'm not too sure about it yet. This being said, if I do make a fic about it; it will be called 'The Last Hand' and it will begin with Ace getting The Last Hand as a gift from Cayde.
> 
> Also, non sequitur: Ace/Acker is a southpaw.
> 
> Please comment and review, as always I welcome feedback.


	8. Chapter 8

In the scant few days since Dusk found her guardian, it felt like lifetimes had passed by. Technically speaking they had since she'd already had to resurrect him once. Nearly twice thanks to his reckless, albeit relatively effective, antics.

It was the eve of the fourth day when they made the final stretch to the tower after Acker's detour. Dusk had transmatted him to the tower's courtyard with herself at his shoulder. The automatic pilot subroutines took over and guided the Arcadia into the hanger with their newly acquired warp drive in its cargo hold. No doubt Shipwright Holliday would be damned thrilled with the small haul of spinfoil they'd managed to scavenge along the way.

By all rights, Acker should have been striding into the Action room, ready to make his report to the Vanguard with his head held high and a spring in his step. Not even a fortnight back in the living world and he'd already slain an Archon. It was an achievement of unparalleled skill – or a terrific stroke of luck – that spoke of great promise and potential.

Rather than revel in the feat, said 'great potential' had instead opted to slump bodily over the wall's guard railing. He'd been there going on five minutes now, groaning while his face turned remarkable shades of green. Just when Dusk thought he'd got a grapple on this temporary alignment – one she was convinced he was playing up – it turned out he was just shifting to get more comfortable, letting one arm dangle limply over the ledge while he used the other to cushion his forehead.

With all that Acker had experienced in the past week alone, Dusk had honestly believed her Guardian would have gained some perspective on what should or should not discomfort him.

Evidently, she was wrong.

Dusk sighed heavily, resting atop his downcast head.

"You can hold your own in a firefight far better than most guardians this soon after their rebirth, you can handle flying a ship at speeds that exceed Mach 9, you can handle resurrection… sort of. Traveller, you can handle an  _explosion going off in your face_ ," Dusk listed off, bouncing on the spot to emphasis each word, "But you can't handle one itty bitty transmat."

Acker grunted in irritation and the Ghost nearly laughed.

Quick as a flash, his dangling arm whipped up to swipe at her shell but Dusk evaporated in blue-white sparks. All his hand swatted was the back of his own head with a loud hard slap.

" _Ow_."

Acker stood upright, clearly trying hard to maintain what fragile balance he had while Dusk appeared before him in a shower of light. If she had the appropriate capacity to smile, she would be doing so rather cheekily right now. Though, Dusk was pleased to note his colour was starting to return to normal.

Acker continued to glower at his ghost, rubbing the back of his sore head. "At this particular juncture, you are so  _not_  my favourite person."

"You scared the living Light out of me with your crazy stunts, so I consider us even."

"What did I do?" He complained defensively,

"Blew yourself up."

"I mean  _recently._ "

"-It wasn't even five days ago!"

"Semantics." The guardian waved it off irritably, turning to lean his back against the rail with a pout pulling at his lips.

Dusk floated in front of him, her blue eye fixed on her Guardian. "Well, if you're done being a complete sook, we need to report to the Vanguard. They'll want to know what we've managed to pull off. Whether you insist on it being a fluke or not, it's not everyday a Guardian manages to kill an Archon on their own."

Acker gave a mock salute, clearly in a sour mood. "Aye aye, Lady Dusklight."

Dusk stared at him blankly, tilting on her forward axis give the appearance of a glare. "Don't do that."

His chin dropped to his chest as he growled. "Fine, lets get this over with."

"Acker. Relax, you're hysterical." Dusk deadpanned.

"And you're a grade-A comedian. Look, don't get me wrong, Cayde-6 seems a riot – can't say much to the other two 'cause I haven't actually spoken to them. But I really don't feel like exchanging pleasantries right now. Not while my guts seem content to pull -  _Urk_ , to pull somersaults." He'd paused, fist pressed against his lips as he swallowed hard. His face briefly flushed a brilliant shade of red.

"Wow, you don't look so good. Okay, consider this then; the sooner you take care of the busy work, sooner you can go visit a medic for something to settle your stomach. Last thing I think either of us wants is for you to puke all over our bosses," Dusk offered, then made a sound of amusement. "Admittedly, Cayde would probably laugh… take you to the medic himself, sure, but he'd be laughing his cape off the entire time. His ghost would too, come to think of it."

Acker took slow measured breaths, trying to distract himself from his churning stomach. "You know each other then? You and Cayde's Ghost?"

Dusk tilted on her axis in thought. She sounded almost wistful. "I haven't spoken to her in forty-three cycles, but I like Sundance. When Mare Imb-"

Acker wasn't so addled by his illness that he didn't notice how abruptly his Ghost cut that line of thought off and his storm-grey eyes narrowed into a frown. Any physical discomfort overshadowed by concern. "... Du-?"

"She helped me a long time ago. A lot."

Acker's frown deepened, both at the interruption and by her hesitation to continue. She failed quite spectacularly to disguise her change of subject with a sense of false cheer. "I like to think of her as a friend. A good one. But hers is an absolutely twisted sense of humour. I've ended up on the wrong side of her pranks on a few occasions."

Acker cocked an eyebrow, caught off guard by the abrupt admission. "Ghosts pull pranks on each other?"

"All the time." Dusk chirped.

His face scrunched, utterly perplexed by the concept. "... reason and logic compel me to ask how? You don't really have arms and legs to-"

"- _Technically_  we plan the prank. Usually our guardians are kind or twisted - or kind  _and_  twisted - enough to help us out. " Dusk informed, genuinely enthusiastic. "Those of us who didn't have one, well, we had to haggle."

Acker barked out a laugh, a crooked smile pulling at his lips at the thought of Dusk trying to convince another Guardian to help her with some good old mischief. "Do Guardians just have absolutely no concept of 'normal'? Cause, the more I hear about their day-to-day lives, the more I come to believe that they -  _we_  are the most messed up, insanely ludicrous society I can imagine... and yet somehow, I am completely okay with this."

"As you yourself said 'Sanity is overrated'. When a group of constantly resurrecting immortals get bored, you would be absolutely  _astonished_  at the things they do in their free time - or even on missions. I promise you Guardian," Dusk explained, her rear fins spinning as she circled around him. She made a noise like clearing her throat and affected a folksy accent. "Ahem - you ain't seen nothin' yet."

He laughed at her joke, "Okay, okay. Do me a favour and write all the stuff you wanna do down on paper or something. Cause I wanna see what you got, and if its good I'll  _definitely_  help you pull it off."

"Oh, I think you'll just  _love_  it. But anyway, back to work. Shall we?"

Acker finally pushing himself off the railing and made his slow way to the Action room. Dusk floated along at his shoulder humming quietly to herself.

When they arrived, the Action room was curiously quiet. The Warlock and Hunter Vanguards were curiously absent from their stations. Acker shot a glance at his ghost, she met his gaze in turn and he shrugged.

Thankfully the Vanguard Commander had remained, with a multitude of Guardians swooping in and out of the chamber. He would give each one of them curt orders while pouring over the mission reports his adjutant placed in front of him. There wasn't really much Acker could do but wait patiently for his turn to speak to Zavala, until eventually he just cut in. Diplomatically it had to be said, but he still cut across a particularly scarred and haughty looking hunter. Acker withered under the seething look they cast his way before leaving.

Brushing it off, he addressed the Commander.

"I'm, uh… I'm looking for the Hunter Vanguard. He around?" Acker tossed a thumb over his shoulder to where Cayde-6 stood when they first met.

"Cayde is currently away on personal business, you may address your report to me in the meantime." Zavala said curtly.

Acker spared his ghost a glance who bobbed up and down like a nod. In blunt words, Dusk watched her guardian as he relayed the events. Notably, what took place on the mission and decidedly not what they spent the latter four days doing. Zavala's expression remained one of professional neutrality until Acker mentioned slaying the Archon. Then, his expression showed genuine surprise.

"You can't be serious." The Adjutant, a Titan Acker would come to know as Deputy-Commander Sloane, stared at him in dumbfounded silence.

"Serious as the day is long."

The Vanguard Commander fixed him with a hard look. "You've only just begun your guardian career, and yet you've already slain an Archon."

"Well… yeah."

"Impressive. Let's see if you can maintain your tenacity. I'm sending you back into action."

" _Already_?" Acker was taken aback, Dusk would admit being shocked herself.

"We are few and far between, Guardian. We cannot afford to have idle hands," Zavala explained. "Fallen forces are strengthening their positions at the Jovian and Terrestrial complexes in the Russian Cosmodrone. The very same Fallen house whose Archon you have just slain. Scout the areas, then report back to me."

The Commander returned to his work and the Guardian took that to mean their conversation was concluded. With nothing apparently left to say, Acker turned and left the Action room, casting a lingering glance at the spot where his Vanguard had stood last time he was here.

"Aye-ye-ye…" Acker managed to ascend the first flight of stairs, but stopped to take a seat at the second leading to the courtyard. He cradled his head in his hands, running fingers through his hair as fatigue set in. He felt strange. Not the stomach-turning kind of funny he got from transmatting, or the malaise of some incoming sickness. This was… something else. Something just beneath the surface.

He frowned when he tried to place it. It was a weird presence but familiar, like the visions he'd been seeing in his sleep or between resurrections. Not the words, those were just a jumble he was still trying to sort through, but the light he kept reaching towards. He'd first felt it when Dusk revived him, and assumed it was her own magic trick that kept him alive. But he was beginning to doubt that theory.

Whatever it was, he liked it. A lot.

"Ah, you're still alive." An increasingly familiar metallic tone greeted him.

"Don't sound so surprised." Acker grumbled, head still cradled in his hands.

"That ain't surprise in my voice, kid. That's relief." Cayde-6 joined Acker by the steps, casually leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

The younger Guardian inclined his head towards him.

"We hunters, when we fall in the wilds, we fall alone. You leave the tower? Might be the last time I ever see you. Baring that in mind, do your vanguard a solid and come back alive, yeah? Or… close as we get to it anyway."

"Not a chance in hell of that happening," Acker declared with a sudden steel resolve, "Got too many questions that need asking and I'm not planning to leave this world again until I get me some answers."

Cayde all but cheers, "That's the spirit. Now, how about that drink?"

Acker was perplexed. "'Cuse me?"

"Drinks? Booze? Alcohol. Neon. pick your poison," Cayde listed off.

He blinked, "Oh, right. Ain't firing on all cylinders right now. Bit distracted."

"He's woozy from trasmatting to the tower." Dusk supplied helpfully, Acker shushed her quickly but she just giggled.

Cayde just nodded in sympathy. "Yeah, been there. It sucks when you ain't used to it. But that's not nothin' a full belly won't cure. So how's about we grab a bite. I know a place that sells the best spicy ramen in the city - I swear by it."

"... I guess?" Acker offered with a shrug. "I'm sure as hell ain't passing up free food."

"Nah, nah. This ain't free, you're buying."

"Wha - what the shit?" Acker complained.

"Yeah, that's the rule kiddo. Rookies always buy. Now, why don't ya tell me how your mission went? Hate to think you've gone and run my rep through the mud by makin' a blunder of it all."

"Cheapskate," He muttered under his breath. "Well, I killed the Devils' Archon. Riksis I think it was."

Cayde's cyan optics stared at Acker for a long second before giving a single nod and continuing onward. "... okay, scratch that. Ramen's on me."

"Seriously?" Acker was taken aback by the sudden generosity.

"Lets just say hearin' that's put me in a generous mood. That's the kind of impressive reserved for whole fireteams. And you did it on your first job without even figuring out how to use a Golden Gun or anythin'." Cayde answered, clapping his shoulder. "Now, how's about you take it from the top and tell me the tale. Tell it right and I'll bet it's a hell of a story."

Acker considered it for a moment then offered a smirk. "Yeah, I reckon I can do that."

It wasn't very long before a question pulled at Acker's thoughts. Cayde was the Vanguard, and if there was anyone he could pose the question to, it would be him. "Hey Cayde, can I ask something? Just… man to man?"

"What's on your mind?"

"... just," Acker rubbed his neck nervously. "Somethin' weird I've been noticing lately. When Dusk rezzes me and when I'm sleeping. Its like… I don't know, I see something. Just, a ball of light. Like a firefly or some damn thing and I keep trying to reach for it. But every time I do - I wake up."

The Hunter Vanguard contemplated this for a long moment, his metal jaw set in a crooked line. "Huh."

"I dunno, probably sounds like I'm losin' it right? I mean, coming back from the dead's pretty traumatic I'd wager. Odds are I'll be going bonkers before long."

"As I rightly recall, you said - and I quote - 'you'll try the insanity thing later'."

Acker chuckled, grinning and casting a side-long glance at his Ghost. "Yeah, everyone's throwing that one back at me today."

"Yeah. That ain't weird - scratch that, it's plenty weird. But it ain't unusual." Cayde answered, when the younger Guardian shot him a confused look Cayde continued, "That's your Light trying to get your attention, Buddy."

Acker frowned, jutting a thumb at his Ghost. "... you mean, like, what Dusk does to rez me?"

"No, I mean your own Light. As in 'this is my Golden Gun' Light."

"And that's a free shot if I ever heard one." He had to bite his lip to keep from smirking sheepishly.

"Anyone told you you're a right royal smartarse?" Cayde half demanded.

"I learn by example." Acker shot back.

The two Hunters continued to trade playful barbs for a while more before Acker steered the subject back to a more serious matter. "But being truthful, is that 'bad' kind of weird? Should I be worried?"

"No, it just means I better keep my eye on you is all. Most Guardians don't hear their Light whispering to them for a few months if not a year or two, you haven't even been in it two weeks and it sounds like it's screaming in your ear." Cayde paused, pointing to the younger Hunter. "Just out of mine own curiosity. When you see that Light, what's it like? Like you're trying to reach for a fire or trying to snatch at a fist full of static?"

Acker blinked, confused. "Like I'm trying to grab the sun. Why? What does that mean?"

The Vanguard promptly crossed his arms and looked insufferably pleased with himself. "That means that you, my friend, are a nascent Gunslinger. And that means someone owes  _me_  a boat load of glimmer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I know I promised to introduce another one of our protagonists in this chapter, but I couldn't find a way to make it flow properly. That being said, pushing their debut back a bit will allow me to better develop their character, so please bare with me. For the record, Acker is biologically in the ballpark of his mid twenties to early thirties. I'll leave the exact age up to the reader. Another non sequitur: For writing Cayde and Acker, I listen to Red like Roses from the RWBY OST. Some of those lyrics are... quite applicable.
> 
> On to the big money question. Cayde's fate? After much pondering on the subject, I will set everyone's mind at ease: No. I will not kill Cayde if I ever reach Forsaken in this fiction. Why? Because if we are truly honest, the whole story of revenge belongs to Petra more than us. And there are simply better ways to handle that narrative. So, no. Cayde will not die. But will he suffer? Ooooooh yes.
> 
> Please comment and review, as always I welcome feedback.
> 
> Aurora313


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Eight**

Spectacular.

One of  _these_  dreams again.

Not that this was anything strange or particularly new. It was just a quirk of simply being what he was.

Every Exo got them now and again. And right at this very minute? It seemed Cayde was well past due for his infrequently scheduled trip down 'creepy towerville' lane.

Like every other time before, he would find himself standing in some nameless golden meadow and a tower bisecting the sky off in the distance. An army greeted him when his blue optics panned up to scan the landscape. An ever-expanding army he had to note comprised of humans, Exos and Awoken. All filling the void between himself and that damnable peak just cresting the horizon.

Almost instantly, that compulsion kicked in and Cayde's body moved on its own as if he were a man possessed. Although, truthfully speaking he would fight of his own accord if he'd come face-to-face with a massive writhing horde of bodies. The way they swarmed reminded him uncomfortably of the Hive and that comparison was all manner of unpleasant.

Like every other iteration of the dream, he had no guns or close combat weapons at hand but that would change soon enough. First, they were coming at him in twos or threes trying to get at him with knives and other bludgeoning tools. Cayde would easily disarm some poor saps and end them with efficient slashes or stabs in vital areas.

The Exo would then become a hurricane of blades as more charged his position. As he cut, droplets of blood caught the twilight sunlight and seemed to suspend in mid air, glimmering like tiny round rubies before splattering the ground, painting the golden plains crimson.

He wasn't sure when it happened, but Cayde somehow managed to disarm a soldier of some kind. Some golden age assault rifle was in his grip and he would use to deadly effect against the horde rushing him. Every time he tried to stop himself, or pursue a different path - hell, even tried to turn and run the opposite direction just for the hell of it - he couldn't. His body acted of its own accord and Cayde would be relegated to the role of helpless observer as his metal skin rampaged, cutting a bloody swath through the people ahead. People he didn't know, or perhaps knew once but no longer. Whatever sentimentality that stray thought spawned did nothing to halt or slow the slaughter. He was reduced to the machine his body was, forced to obey the unknown and unseen master that directed him only to kill and nothing more.

Every time a weapon expended the last of its ammunition, he would scavenge another and continue the murder frenzy. Granted, as gruesome as this whole thing was, there was a clinical precision behind it. And while he was extremely brutal in the chaos, 'frenzy' wasn't the most apt word to describe it either. For lack of a better word, he was damned near mechanical in his killing.

There was always a point in these dreams where Cayde was preternaturally aware that he wouldn't make it. Whether it was some honed instinct built up through dozens if not hundreds of repetitions of the same dream, or something else was beyond him. Frankly, he'd given up trying to guess. But already he could tell this would be one of those times where he'd fall short. More to the point, Cayde knew that it was coming to a conclusion and soon.

He could already tell from how things were going that this would be one of those less fortunate times. For every dozen or two he struck down in this wet work, he would get more grazes and scrapes that even he couldn't brush off forever. Death by a thousand cuts as the old saying goes.

At that point, the driving question behind the dream shifted. No longer a question of whether or not he would reach the tower, but of who would be the lucky bastard to strike the killing blow this time around.

Sometimes it would be Zavala, other times Ikora. Sometimes Guardians he only knew in passing, dead and long gone. Hell, in some dreams the honour of the coup de grace would go to his old friend and comrade, Andal Brask. Cayde found that he didn't mind that concept much. Going out at the behest of his best friend's mercy wasn't a bad way to go. And if he got to see his brother's face again, well... that wasn't bad either.

Of course, sometimes it wasn't Guardians at all. Sometimes it was just regular people. A random civilian who just happened to score a lucky shot. Or humans in fatigues or wearing some form of Golden Age military regalia. One that stuck out was a blond military officer, and a beautiful one at that. Regal and proud. Eyes the colour of storm clouds and a beauty mark on her cheek. Cayde figured she was either a captain or a General with all the pins on her lapels. Curiously, he found he didn't mind dying by her hand either. In fact, he felt a strange…  _contentment_  at the prospect.

Of course, at his frequent imminent death, he liked to imagine this was the point where the surreal nature of the dream mingled with his own abstract desires.

Morbid as it was, Cayde liked to imagine any one of these unknowns who dealt the final blow was Ace. Ace who was staring down at him with a cannon in his grip. Ace who became a Guardian despite all evidence and absolutely ludicrous odds - funny how that hope was cropping up more and more lately. It was a good story, he had to admit. His son coming back to save his crazy old man from his own madness.

Cayde felt his right knee joint explode as a bolt round pierced through his armour and the metal plates. His hand cannon - somehow he'd managed to find his Ace of Spades - when pinwheeling out of his hand into the throng while the lower half of his limb went off in another direction. Trying to retrieve either would have been pointless.

Another round pierced through his left bicep, leaving a massive gaping wound that leaked oil and exposed damaged wiring which sparked sporadically. Cayde let out an involuntary gasp of pain and realised now that the vice-like grip holding his actions had vanished.

 _May as well try to get a look at the bastard gettin' the last shot this time._  He thought defiantly.

All noises had ceased, it was like the dream just stopped when he did. But that sudden absence and white noise filling its void had also made the approach of his would-be executioner easier to detect and all the louder for it.

Cayde looked up. His optics first focusing on the single hand - the right - grasping the Ace of Spades in a bloody fist.

_Wants to kill me with my own gun, huh? Figures._

Cayde looked up to greet his executioner. The figure was haloed by the setting sun but his optics reconfigured and re-calibrated for that in a microsecond.  _Three cheers for being a robot._

This face was a farther regular executioner too. It was as unfamiliar as the rest on first glance, but Cayde knew instinctively that this man was someone he knew from before. Either from a reset or his first life. What didn't help was that the man's appearance was as random as the dream itself sometimes. In one iteration, it would be covered by a hood, leaving little more than the nose and mouth exposed to light. This time, like the other half of the time, his face was covered from brow to chin in runnels of blood. Like the youth had been through one hell of a fight, and a damned brutal one at that. His left arm was truncated, ending in a bloodied and dripping stump that stopped just below the elbow. A large gash would across his abdomen split his body in two with a wet bloody line.

Cayde glared in defiance at the youth. If he was going to die by his own cannon then he would do it with his head held high. He couldn't figure out exactly what, but something in his brain finally clicked. Mentally wiping the blood away, the face was once unfamiliar as the rest. But now, now he recognise the person underneath that sheen of blood. His optics widened as a pair of storm-grey eyes peered down at him.

The bloody face snarled something in silence at Cayde and pulled the trigger.

Cayde woke in his chambers with a jolt. A glass of neon liquor he'd been nursing clattered and spit over his maps but Cayde didn't care. He was breathing hard, or simulating the actions as the humanisms replicated in his Exo programing perfectly mimicked the reactions of a fright from a nightmare.

"Cayde, you okay?" Sundance was at his shoulder immediately, appearing in a flicker of light.

Cayde didn't hear her. He recognised that face! That very same face worn by the kid he'd just had dinner with the night before. The face of the tower's newest Guardian.

" _Acker_..." Cayde whispered, brushing his fingertips over his metal jaw. "That traveller damned kid. I  _know_  him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologise for my tardiness. I would have liked to update sooner, but I've been recently struggling with my mental health and had to prioritise my health, care and medication. On the bright side, I now have a diagnosis, I'm on medication that seems to be helping and am working towards positive progress.
> 
> Thanks and regards,
> 
> Aurora313


End file.
